Nothing More
by loungelizard85
Summary: While Kate meets Jacob Pond, and the two search for the Winchesters, Krissy Chambers and Jesse Turner begin a tumultous partnership. Four random characters in a world where nothing is coincidence. DISCLAIMER: Everything belongs to Eric Kripke and assorted holders of rghts to media used; I own nothing. Chapter 11 up now, Jesus of Surburbia, Part Tre.
1. Chapter 1

"_I walk a lonely road" _

Kate smirked at her iPod, and then stared down the orange red road, illuminated by the fast setting sun.

"_Don't know where it goes…"_

Neither did she. When you leave everything behind, to try and make good on a flight of fancy, direction is something of a cock block. And so, down one more road that was almost as much dirt as it was road. Kate had decided that for safety reasons, it was best to travel on foot- nothing had happened yet, the last ride she had hitched was almost cliché in how warm and friendly the trucker had been, and it had been hours later and only vaguely did she realized how bad riding with strangers could be.

A few statistics and 'helpful facts' about date rape and student safety from orientation rolled by in her mind's eye, and briefly she wondered if she still qualified as a member of that demographic to which sexual assault and violence belonged.

Or, more to the point, to the human race at all.

Her…. condition made it hard to understand much of anything anymore. When you've grown in to adult hood, knowing that for all the talk of feminism and equality, very little would stop a predator from doing whatever he wanted, should the chance arise.

_Predator._ Before that word had actually been safe- a way to talk about what happens to poor innocent girls or the wayward hippo calf getting too close to an alligator's open jaws, that it was a way of life, and yet still, it could change. Predators died every day, and they were sent to prison and kept away from civil society.

Now, however what it meant to be a predator weighed heavily on her mind: desires, wants, lust. Need.

Kate shut off the song as the words about _"what's fucked up and everything's alright"_ echoed in her ear. Kate was somewhere in the middle- absent the innocence that lead to the cruel punishment of being a 'tease' or at least the lack of awareness of what warm bodies and expectations and _anger_ can do to a person- and image of Brian's face just _before_ passed though her mind, and yet without the control that came with being strong enough to do things that had consequence.

After she still had to repress the fact that the true reason she found hitching ill advised was due to the allure of the occasional road side meal.

The first time, she made a little joke about how she should just forget about starting her career in environmental law if her lunch break was going to be an animal carcass. Then she remembered when she first expressed that… desire, and then she remembered Brian, and remembered his awkward attempts to get in good with her, followed very rapidly by seething anger, stomach churning guilt, Michael's face and finally the urge to cry like a baby, which Kate indulged.

Her earlier thoughts about control and predatory instinct resurfaced, and it as now that she realized against the steady crunching of sandy rock beneath her feet, was a faint hissing sound. Looking down, Kate spied some species of snake, reddish brown, the first of the evening- it would be too hot any other time of the day. It traveled along leaving a faint, if not almost invisible trail behind it. Kate was quick. First she grabbed it by the tail, then by what would the neck, if there were anything to distinguish one part from another along the length of its body. Her pupils dilated, she was sure and two sets of hyper shat canine teeth exposed themselves. Very quickly then, she pulled taut the reptile and bit dead center.

Kate hoped she had gotten what she was looking for and felt herself relax when her teeth met resistance, a gooey bulge more sweeter than the rest of the meat in her mouth, and swallowed. Willing herself to look down she could see the still twitching pieces she had thrown aside so as not to get bitten. Already a few ants were beginning to crawl over the carcass.

It amazed her how natural it seemed, like a nature documentary after something so… supernatural, had just occurred.

Quickly continuing on, Kate tried to dispel the thoughts of Brian and predators and focus on how her tuition was going to waste, how her parents would be pissed and how much longer would a walk be to a train stop, or at least a crossing.

Unfortunately she couldn't shake how efficiently she had made he kill, just moments before, how she justified he lack of hesitancy as mercy, and how she remembered her phrasing her disemboweling of a former friend who, somewhere deep down she feared she had led on:

_I've never hurt anyone. Nobody human anyway._

Did it make a difference?


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: I know this is slow going, but it will get more action oriented soon.

Among hunters, the _type_ of hunter one becomes known as is aptly decided by the quarry one hunts. Regarding the supernatural, categorically, are no different. Most of the hunters one would meet preoccupy themselves with killing the thing that got them into hunting in the first place- and that generally means killing the thing that killed someone close. All of that obsession with killing generally one to drink. So, statistically, any American hunter one would meet hunts monsters and when not following a lead is drunk off his (or her) ass.

Krissy Chambers and her father, Lee were lucky enough to avoid that fate, Krissy being to young to drink, and Lee needing to be a father kept him grounded.

They were also lucky enough to avoid the fate that met other hunters as well. A new hunter, still green, might think much of successful hunt of a wraith or Wendigo, but those creatures were preferable to the large amount of what lies beyond the unexplained disappearance of a camper, or weird lights in the distance. Ghosts, Demons, those things whose empty, seeming soulless eyes belied intelligence and a penchant for creative torture, and the hunters who spent time tracking down a vengeful spirit only to find cause of death was perfectly avoidable, or to track down a demon that had found a host that was bound to die after everything was over, or stumble upon what no human being was meant to know about.

Indeed, hunters generally found themselves meeting their end either through stupidity, the drink, burn out, or a few times, believing themselves the savior of a god forsaken world and needing to be put down themselves. After al, fanaticism was not unknown among their ranks.

So, Krissy should feel lucky. However, watching her father dress the wound given to him by the Rakshasa posing as a deliveryman just an hour before, while she swept up glass from the window smashed in the struggle, the Hindi spirit dispatched by a brass knob stabbed in its abdomen- Krissy's work. _One and done, my ass, _she thought ruefully.

It wasn't the Rakshasa that had her on edge though. Truthfully, what she had said to Dean Winchester had been a lie on its head. Getting out of the life? Not so easy. When you're burnt out, depressed, sure not going into work is as tempting as it would be at any other job.

But right now, at sixteen, having something like hunting made Krissy feel good. Smart enough to know that hunting creatures did little if anything to help anybody in any way, and patient enough not to go half cocked into a situation she couldn't handle, the longer and more complicated the hunter the better the reward.

Of course, she could never collect in person, rather she would send a tip to one of her father's contacts on a burner cell; sometimes nothing, a lot of the time the trouble had passed, but sometimes, just enough of the time someone would call back with how a spirit had been salted and burned, or how they wouldn't have found that vampire nest without her help.

Taking advice from a kid was no matter, as a hunter, anything offered for free was quickly accepted, so long as one remembered that things were oft too good to be true.

So it went without saying that the chance to go on a hunt without having to call in a tip, or a possible sighting, to actually look up a weakness was welcomed.

Krissy took her time of course; if she was right, what had, for all intents and purpose just _fallen_ in her lap was not to be trifled with.

Now in her room, Krissy opened her laptop and queued up a search engine and typed:

_Cambion._


	3. Chapter 3

A/N: One more introductory chapter, and then it's go time

One of the few things people often forget about Australia is that it is both a country and a continent. This distinction was not lost on Jesse Turner; in fact it was one of the best things about the land mass. An entire place undivided by boundaries invisible, a free, vast space. The problem was, no matter how aware he was of that fact from the beginning, it did not make him feel any less lonely each and every time it reentered his surface thoughts. A continent was vast and huge, more so than a country and it forced him to understand that the people he loved, hell, the people he could recognize, were miles away.

Jesse found his abilities were essentially in the same category, control wise as were fainting and a runner's high were for your average human- he could control it if he caught in on time, but pressed, his powers acted of their own accord. Sometimes it was small things: a glass would side across a table in a diner he frequented, unbeknownst to the other patrons, sometimes it was very large but untraceable, for certain, even for Jesse _himself_, to know that a freak storm was not the cause of one of his powers reacting to a wish for weather, in Australia's climate at least, was unusual, or an angry burst that occurred all the more frequently as time went on.

If any indication of trouble in paradise was more persistent or pertinent it was his beginning to miss school. Jesse was bright- school would likely be a hinder to his academic progress, the same way those urban myths had been- it would be impossible to scratch through one's head fast enough to counteract the eventual exsanguation, blood loss that would occur and either kill or cause the person to faint, and after an encounter with a _very _pretty sixteen year old girl named Kayla (most of the other individuals he encountered considered him at worst an oddity, at best a mysterious and somewhat romantic individual) hairy palms were just idiotic (and even if true, well worth it).

Still, Jesse had to be careful, and admittedly, he feared one day the demons would come to claim him, and destroy anything that got in their way. So, a summer's tryst with the beautiful blond Kayla was out of the question.

Obviously the angels worried him too. But it was unlikely any angel would possess a potential friend or girlfriend in order to get at him.

And that's what scared him: someone he cared about being used to find him, or worse, realizing they were as unreal as the illusions he projected as his parents, the residence he stayed at, and everything else he had done to avoid suspicion.

There wasn't much to pack; most of the clothes he manifested he had dissipated, he had no where to store, them, and besides it was good to practice, incase he needed shelter, in case he needed to peer in to others to see if black smoke and obsidian eyes would look back. It was tiring.

Another of Jesse favorite stops was a small stationary store near the beach, filled with post cards and the like. Those post cards, until now were good keepsakes, the only thing that Jesse actually held on to. The only thing he actually obtained with real money (occasionally, Jesse helped out in a store or two, and made a little cash, everything else 'bought' with his upper middle class 'father's money, who was here on business) but now it was time to see if he could make the trip back.

Australia being a tourist spot, especially for tourist on round the globe tours, it made sense to stock more than just Australian landmarks as post cards and Jesse managed to find a few from the states. Flipping through the somewhat meager collection, looking for a decent… landing spot, he finally decided on Kansas.

Homey, but with a few big cities from what he had read, and finally checked the post card's depiction of the El Capitan- a steel steer, for a particular destination: Ford County, specifically Dodge City.

After some goodbyes and a few tears, Jesse found himself alone with the post card, getting ready for his 'flight'. He concentrated hard, but not too hard, just like he did to get to Australia, and willed himself to go there.

It was night when he arrived, and Jesse made a note of the time difference should he want to go back.

Jesse managed to make the needed alterations to his surroundings and to people's short term memories- he found if he willed it, minor, unimportant things people didn't pay attention to, say, a 'misplaced' student transfer form that was once again found, allowed him access to a local school and children his age, who didn't have as much regard for a new local as did his friends back in the Outback, but still were personable enough.

One in particular, a girl close to his age, introduced herself after only a week or so.

"Hi," she had said. "My name's Krissy, but you can call me Kris"


	4. Chapter 4

Paging through one of his mother's mortuary textbooks, Jacob Pond paused over an introductory text about the importance of funeral rites throughout recorded history. Of particular interest to him was the passage on Egyptian embalming process. For some reason, the passage took detours into the belief of some that tombs were cursed_- "Death comes on wings to those who disturb the tomb of the pharaoh"_ was supposedly engraved on the side of the tomb in hieroglyphics, and purportedly, many of the original excavators, archeologists and others met mysterious ends afterward.

The way in which people treated their dead was of interest to Jacob, not least because his food source derived thusly. Pituitary glands were hard to come by fresh without raising suspicion, and even if it were easier, Jacob refused to allow himself to go down a path his mother would be disappointed to know of. He also, as a matter of direction from his kind, refused to disturb the already buried. That sort of thing was left for _undesirables_ and lesser classes. That left little option but the occasional cadaver among mainly morgue access.

However, the passage had other intriguing factoids on the subject of death, such as the fact that the covering of a white sheet over a corpse was the product of superstition that spirits of the recently deceased would become trapped in mirrors and haunt the residence or that a final meal was meant to prevent against a vengeful spirit of a prisoner from exacting revenge against those that had executed it.

That was not to say that Jacob Pond was obsessed with death or dying. On the contrary, what Jacob found most compelling of the passages was _life after death_, and how it scared the _hell_ out of most people.

Not Jacob. When you lose people dear to you, you don't have to fear that fictional boogey men and evil spirits are clamoring after you (besides, Jacob didn't have to fear, he practically _was_ one); rather one had the very real fear that letting down someone you had no longer a chance to make it up to.

That was what kept Jacob up at night. Death, not so much. Between needing recently dead flesh to survive and constantly aware of how he and others like him were hunted, death was a technicality that could only become a problem if the right precautions were not taken.

And Jacob took them all. Well, except for one. After changing states and leaving Bozeman, Jacob decided it couldn't hurt if he kept the last alias of his mother, Amy. After all, 'Pond' was rather inconspicuous. He had made his decision after hearing a news report declaring Amy Pond 'presumed dead' and ruefully thinking that there was nothing presumed about his mother's death. That was in the first week he had moved with a small burrow, headed by a distant relative of some relation, Jacob was not sure.

Retribution had been on his mind, but leaving was on his current 'guardians' who did little more than serve as an excuse to be in places he shouldn't alone. Though those hunters would be in the wind, the cops and presumably other hunters would show up rather quickly. For safety reasons, Amy never told anyone, at her work or among a small number of casual acquaintances, that she had had a son, and so no one would come looking for him.

Currently in Michigan, they had stopped here because it was enough distance and after a few suspicious animal attacks had occurred and stopped, no one would be on the lookout for missing persons, believing the situation over and done with until long after the group had moved on.

So, perhaps Jacob should have been more careful, more aware of the noises outside the morgue. Perhaps he was more relaxed than he ought to have been. Or, perhaps he was his usual overly cautious self and, scary as it was, no amount of foresight or planning could have prevented _this._

This being the flash of blond, the sight of constricted pupils and very large fangs.

Kitsunes are taught two things growing up 1) Being a monster doesn't mean you have to act like one, and 2) Being a monster does not mean there are not more terrifying things out there.

Because of their similarities in hunting patterns, there is one supernatural creature that are specific to rule #2, and was currently holding Jacob against the morgue cabinet.

_Werewolf._


	5. Chapter 5

"Ah, Miss? Miss? Are you all right?"

Kate's head shot up from the newspaper she had been reading rather violently, and the waitress before took a half step back. At first, Kate feared she had inadvertently 'wolfed out', but given the fact that her cuticles did not give way to large claws and no one was screaming bloody murder, combined with the salty taste in her mouth, the _tears_ that were rolling down her face settled that.

"Allergies. Sorry, was something wrong?"

The waitress recovered quickly, "our manager is kind of a tight ass. No booths for an order under ten dollars. So either you pick something else besides coffee or sit at the counter" The brunette looked apologetic and Kate, deciding she was indeed hungry, ordered the closest thing to match her appetite.

"I can bring you a menu-"

"Steak. Rib eye, Rare"

The waitress glanced up from her pad. "_Very_ rare," Kate affirmed her order.

The waitress nodded, still a bit unsure but hurried off anyway. Kate turned back to the paper. Money seemed to last a lot longer when not spent on now luxury items like cooked food. Still the occasional craving for caffeine remained, and strongly. This had held her curiosity until the paper she had bought at a way back at a stand a bit back mentioned graves. It was an attention getting word, yes, and Kate skimmed the article after placing her original order for a coffee, large, no cream, extra sugar. The tears started after the second paragraph: Authorities are still uncertain if the vandalism of the grave had any connection to the recent homicide that claimed the lives of local college students Michael Wheeler and Brian Wilcox.

She hadn't lived with the for very long, and only stayed over a few nights, not wanting to seem 'easy' or interested in something more if this turned out to be little more than a hookup. After all their first meeting had involved Michael filming her without her knowing, for the most part, and then sleeping together.

Had she known what would have happened next, she wouldn't have cared so much about perceptions.

Either way, Michael and Brian's off campus place was very off campus, so no one had seen her leave. Still, that professional d-bag, Scott, new they were together, so, it was likely that someone in that group of assholes would start talking, if only to seem important. Besides, one student splits after two others are found dead, one brutally murdered. Even small town bumpkins can put two and two together.

The waitress was back with her order. Her steak was very rare, some blood tinting the juice of the meat a ruddy treacle color. "Thank you," Kate smiled, a bit forced.

The waitress nodded, and left just as hurriedly as the first time. Kate wondered if the news item on grave vandalism, the slim blond girl who had just ordered a raw piece of meet, or the need to care of new customers.

The diner was almost empty.

Kate's eyes slipped back to the paper, but her growling stomach and salivating mouth forced her to the meat. Then she wondered when food became meat, and every thing edible that wasn't actually meat became unimportant.

More satisfying than the snake's heart, but it still didn't take care of an unspecified craving that Kate decided was best not to push.

After finishing up and leaving a large tip- she was a monster, not a cheapskate- Kate turned her eyes to the column once again. Apparently there had been a few cases like this before, and so the local police were not sure if the graves of either student were of particular consequence, or just random occurrences. If there weren't any leads yet, there were likely to be none. A new unspecified urge surfaced inside of her, and unlike before not acknowledging it would do no good.

Anger coursed through her, it wasn't fair; that she couldn't even expect Michael to rest in peace, that leaving would avoid questions and keep those who were searching them out from doing any more harm.

Apparently, that, like feeling sated, was a luxury too.

The column noted that the last vandalism occurred only a day ago. Sighing, Kate new what she would do, it was pointless and dangerous- Professor Ludensky was not a match for them, and he had ten years experience- but it was also inevitable.

She arrived in Washtenaw County only a few hours later. She had used a large part of the money she had collected from both of what Brian and Michael had in the house plus a few credit cards, which obviously were useless to her, unless she wanted a police squad knocking at her door. Besides, she had been hesitant to even take the cash, at least that which belonged to Michael. Justifying it under the claim that Michael would want her to have it made her feel sick to her stomach and guilty as hell. However, she realized that the money missing would look like a robbery at least, and perhaps help to settle the matter quickly. She knew, or at least she thought she knew that the two 'FBI agents' would destroy the evidence- the footage she had made- and then leave good enough as good enough, or sometime in that first week or so, she would wake up dead. That hadn't happened yet, so she assumed that the two had either given up or indulged her request to be given a chance. Either possibility had seemed unlikely, now, her fears were cemented. Coming back here, she was almost assured to be signing her death warrant… but if they insisted on insulting Michael's memory, than Kate could not sit back and let that happen.

It was the only thing she had been sure of since the start of this insanity.

Pausing outside of the bus terminal, it only occurred to her now that there were police and _actual_ federal agents looking for her. To that end, she quickly pulled a hooded sweatshirt and donned it, pulling it over head and sticking her hand in her pockets.

Her bright blond hair would make it hard to pull off the emo-teen look, but, then again so did driving a Prius, and it never stopped the Goths before, so why should this stop her?

The cemetery where both Michael and Brian were buried was about a fifteen minute drive from her current position, but would be useless, some sort of guard would be posted, if not an on going crime scene.

The way Kate worked it out, she would have to get the drop on them. And to do that, she would need to know there whereabouts. And to do that, she would need to know where they were headed. _And_ to do that, she would need to know what they were looking for.

Kate massaged her temples. _First things first. Two guys, flashing likely fake or perhaps even stolen badges claiming to investigate bizarre murders in your area. Which, you know are because of werewolves._ Even in her mind it sounded ridiculous. _They've done this before. If they've done this before, their likely looking for clues, and if their looking for clues…_ Kate stared. She _didn't_ need to go to the cemetery. It was likely they had been to the county morgue, and given that she hadn't seen any reports of disturbances there, they hadn't been there, or they hadn't been caught. The second was more likely a possibility, and the grave was… it occurred to Kate that they just didn't care enough to cover their tracks, didn't care enough about him… and fresh tears began to build.

Blinking them away, Kate resolved to cry _after_ this was over and done with.

Washtenaw County Morgue is a dull quiet place; with none of the atmosphere one would see in the movies. Obviously, Kate was aware film makers had invested interest in avoiding the banal, but this whole experience made her feel like a child, and made her chastise herself for even the most innocuous of observations, such as the small, niggling voice that remarked, once Kate made herself aware of how quiet it was: yes… dead quiet, and Kate rolled her eyes at herself.

She wasn't afraid, she was incredulous. And now faced with the task of getting into the building without being detected, needing to turn to those silly scary movie plots did not help.

Sighing, Kate surveyed the premises. She could jump up to reach the fire escape, if only it weren't so high… _crap. _If werewolves can run fast heal fast and smell far, they probably are strong enough to jump high enough. Aggravated at having to go deeper into this… this B movie script of a day, Kate backed up for a running start, and feeling like Teen Wolf, ran and jumped just a few feet short of her original standing place.

Kate managed to grab the landing, and swinging herself once, twice, pull herself up with the momentum on the third time.

Now faced with the problem of how to get through a locked window, Kate felt the overwhelming urge to scream. Forcing it down, and seeing no other way, Kate took off her sweater, wrapped it around her hand and smashed it through the pane tossing it down, as it broke hoping to muffle the sound; it wasn't as though she had to worry about injury- the cuts on her hand from the falling pieces of glass quickly healed and Kate wiped the blood off.

Ducking down and in, Kate waited with bated breath. When it appeared no one was coming, she grabbed her sweater, making sure to dump the glass shards outside of the window and continued to a stair well, and ventured a tug; it swung rather forcefully the door only inched from slamming into the wall before Kate stopped it.

The stairwell echoed, too much for Kate's taste, but she chalked it up to her over sensitive hearing and nerves.

Reaching the crypt, in the basement, Kate peered through a window, and hen immediately ducked down.

A short curly headed man was already there, or at least what looked like one, evidently her eyes weren't as good as her hearing even after wolf senses were factored in. Gathering her courage she slowly peered over the window frame's rectangular pane.

The short man was still there and seemed to be examining the head of a corpse. A fresh resurge of both anger and grief welled within her, she hadn't actually expected anyone to be here, and if she did see anyone, she had no idea how this was going to go down- attack? Just frighten him?

Another look, however cemented her resolve when she saw what looked like small blades being inserted into the back of the head.

What gave them the right? The right to tamper with the eternal sleep of the dead? To desecrate what would be the safest place on earth… and beyond?

Nothing seemed to appease her wrath and so, quietly she slipped in, whether or not this small figure was even remotely connected to her perpetrators, gone from her mind in a blissful numbing haze of wrath.

And pick the man up, and slam him against the cabinets, the echo almost blasphemous in the darkened room.

Tiring of pressing the groaning individual against the cabinet walls, hurling him to the other side of the room seemed fit.

Sailing through the air, at least what Kate could see, and crash landed on a examination cart knocking it and a few implements to the floor.

With another growl, Kate decided to do what she had done to Brian; to a werewolf, dismemberment is as satisfying as ripping into wrapping paper or cutting into a fresh piece of construction paper, what felt good was not about release or venting rage, what felt good; what was so compelling was the vibrating crunch of bones, the snap of splitting tendons. Kate was very aware; only her _human_ side was concerned about obliterating Brian.

The feeling of ripping into meat would have to wait- her target was up and moving quickly, too quickly- attempting to stab her with those knives from earlier.

Pain shot from the base of skull down her neck, and instinctively, Kate slammed herself against a cabinet stunning her assailant and forcing him to withdraw the blades. A hand swiped along her neck brought blood but not pain; the wounds had healed. Again the same gambit, but this time Kate rapidly turned and with full ferocity, bit into the arm of her, once again victim.

And saw that the 'blades' were onyx in coloration, almost a purple in the dim light and were attached to the hand, now bloody. They were claws.

After an anguished cry the figure went silent, dead or passed out, Kate was not sure. Looking down, though Kate could see in the dim light of a hallway florescent, the youthful face of a boy not a man, barely fifteen, if she would venture a guess.

It was also now she heard shouting, angry accusing cries: night watchman. It was time to go. But again the florescent that damn florescent gleamed, refracted in a growing pool of blood.

A fresh, yet familiar feeling overtook Kate, who new that her fangs had receded and her eyes had returned to normal without looking or checking a mirror. However grisly the sight, a _sound_ turned out to be her savior: a low pained groan from the prone form.

He was alive. Kate quickly thanked whatever deity would have her and scooped the… boy, there really was no other label, realized the blond with a pang of guilt. She managed to grab her discarded sweater as well, and drape it over her bundle attempting to swaddle him, or at least stop the blood flow.

Why wasn't it healing? It never really occurred to Kate that there were other creatures out there; she had merely assumed that werewolves were the sort of creatures that existed, like other one-note urban legends, odd medical cases something more out of _Nightstalker_, rather than _Buffy the Vampire Slayer_, or at least, the later seasons in the show.

Now looking for a way out, Kate's eyes fell upon the door way she had come, and she ran. Through the doorway past the encroaching foot steps of the guards into the next floor, and balancing with one hand, smashed through the window near the fire escape with the other, running quickly down and bounding the last or the way to the ground in one leap, landing shakily but on two feet, and not on her ass. Finally she took off running, and kept running until she no longer knew where she was running to.

_Stop. STOP. STOP, KATE, DAMNIT! _

Kate finally halted relenting to her mind, not tired physically, but ready to cry and holding back was becoming a suffocating chore. She was covered in her newfound charge's blood. Only one thought actually seemed like a good one or at least halfway decent: find a damn hospital.

But still, the claws had not retracted, and still what the hell would she say; just dump him like a damn return at Best Buy?

No, she had to bind the wound herself. She needed supplies. She began to run again, grateful that the nights in Michigan or at least this county were so quiet and deserted, yet still she kept her head down, the original intent for her return not forgotten. Finally she found what she was looking for: an open drugstore.

Cautiously she neared the first aid counter grabbing some gauze and realizing how stupid the purchase was, Neosporin. Fishing out a twenty she threw it on the service counter, quickly running for the exit as she heard the predictable "May I help you?" only half completed as she left.

Upon returning to her hotel room, the one she rented, head down and brusquely, she flashed a room key at the concierge and mumbled something about "the little guy being tuckered out" and being, once again, grateful for the small miracles in life: that he did not check to see that her check in was only for one. Once in her room, she realized she would pay for that miracle- there was blood everywhere, and the large stain on her shirt mad her queasier then the open wound on the boy. Quickly pulling out some gauze, she wrapped it around the wound, a crescent bite mark, wincing at the way the blood bloomed through the fabric. Tying one more layer in a tight knot, she grabbed whatever blanket that had been stained and threw it in the hamper, stripped her shirt off and replaced it with a fresh one after rinsing off some residual stain on her stomach and abdomen. Her jeans were more or less untouched and, really she was too tired to care. She decided she would handle paying for her new companion in the morning and quickly, almost haphazardly wiping the blood of his as she could now see, slim and wiry frame.

Exhausted, she settled on the floor, the last thing her mind noted would be how similar her attempts to get cozy with nothing but a sheet and pillow on carpet reminded her of uncles old hound circling a spot to settle to sleep.


	6. Chapter 6

Kate grimaced. The quickly fading heat on the back of her hand told her one thing: Fever. Since last night, the teen boy- or whatever he was- those claws had yet to retract- had not woken. The only thing that made Kate certain that he was still alive were the few moans and whimpers that came from him in his sleep, and the one time, in which Kate's heart literally hurt, in which he called out for 'mama' emphasis on the last syllable, like a toddler. Was his mother waiting for him? What exactly _was_ his mother? He alone had put up a good fight, suppose his parents came looking for him, what then? It only occurred to her then that he didn't call for 'papa' and applying some of her 'Intro to Gen Psych' or at least the majority of it (she never took her final) figured that there was no father, at least he wasn't in the picture.

Rubbing her eyes at this surreal nature of her predicament, a knock at the door startled her. Nearing the door, she checked the peep hole and saw that it was the concierge, the day shift, rather than the night shift one. She opened the door cautiously.

"Hi, Ms. Montenegro? It seems the night manager saw you with another… individual, and you only checked in for one," he said after a bit. His eyes then went to her unconscious companion and back to her, with a slightly disturbed expression on his face.

"Um, while we like to maintain the utmost… privacy for our guests, we wouldn't expect any _trouble_, would we?"

Trouble? Her head rubbernecked to the boy, worried that some blood remained, but she couldn't see any, at least not from here. It took a bit for her to understand what 'trouble' he meant. Young boy. Older women. All alone, in a seedy hotel room. Not exactly on the up and up. Should she say they were brother and sister? No, no familial resemblance. She needed an ambiguous, distant relation. Placing a perturbed expression on her face, which wasn't hard when she thought about how calm he seemed about statutory rape and answered, "He's my cousin"

The concierge made a face like a fish. "O-oh. Well attempting to stay with another quest without payment is not … permitted…. We have a policy," he continued trying to regain some standing.

"He just met me here last night. The night concierge didn't have a problem, and of course- at this point she pulled a small wad of small bills triumphantly- I was going to pay. He was tired and we're leaving today, so I didn't think it a big deal. Thirty plus fifteen for the night, right?" she asked curtly. The concierge nodded meekly. He turned to leave, but Kate called out to him, "There is one more thing." The concierge looked nervous, but walked back to the door. Pulling out a ten dollar bill "He's running a fever, I need some Tylenol, please" He took the bill and nodded again. "Keep the change" She smiled, which was fully forced. Closing the door, she finished in her head, a la 'Home Alone', _you filthy animal._

When the medicine arrived with a knock at the door, Kate loathed opening the door, but sucking it up quickly answered it, only to find the concierge copped out and sent a maid up with the drugs. Grateful, she pulled out two dollars for a tip handed it over and took the small pharmacy bag and shut the door as the maid left.

However she quickly remembered the sheets in the hamper, remembered the blood on them and remembered why leaving today was not only convenient, but necessary.

But, still the teen was in his fever dream tossing and turning but waking. A voice in her head responded: _Here's a thought, mind of Mensa, try waking him up. Dumbass._

Kneeling beside the boy, she tried to gently prod him awake. Even though the last time they had encountered each other this close, she had bit him nearly through the arm, and speaking of- her eyes landed on the wound which seemed to have stopped bleeding and was only slightly red tinted- she was now gingerly poking him with her index finger. Deciding that was no help, she reluctantly began to shake him. "Listen, we need to go." She wasn't sure he could hear her but it was worth a shot. He made a few noises of resistance, intent on sleeping through the fever, but finally bleary eyed and given his wobbly posture, disoriented he awoke, sitting up.

"Mom?" She was going to hell.

"We have to leave, okay?"

"But why, Mom?" She was going to hell and going to _burn_.

"Because… because we have a trip to go on" Burn like a log, she would. "Here, take this" Quickly fetching a glass of water, and then handing the pill to him, she silently pleaded that this wouldn't make things worse. She had no idea if this would adversely affect him; she couldn't tell you if it would have adversely affected _her_ if she had taken it.

At least, she had noticed, the claws were gone. Grabbing her things, she quickly pulled him to his feet and walked him to the door. Outside she gently guided him down the stairs, worried that he may tumble down the stairs. If letting him believe she was 'Mom' was the only way to keep him safe then so be it. In the lobby, she signed the guest book, _Temperance Montenegro,_ her current alias. Finally, outside, she let go of a breath she didn't know she had been holding.

The air was crisp and a bit of a breeze settled in the warm air.

Now what? There literally was nothing she could do until he snapped out of it. She couldn't leave with him or leave him somewhere, even without him looking like Edward Sissorhands, he was still vulnerable. Besides, if he wasn't who she was looking for, and obviously he wasn't- Fake BI Guys were human, only a member of _Homo Sapiens_ could put away a burger like that. It was barely red. Based on her own experience, meat that wasn't at least somewhat raw and plain lost all its appeal, not that it had much before, as a (mostly) vegetarian, she only ate some egg and fish meat on occasion for a balanced diet. Which now consisted of hearts. A heart healthy diet indeed.

In spite of everything, she laughed. The stress, sadness and insanity had come to a head, and it felt like something had broken inside, the laughter like the final tremors of a muscle spasm- faint but affecting already worn and torn pieces.

Apparently laughter was something his mother didn't do, because, looking down, she could see him gazing suspiciously at him.

"You're awake…. Great" She wasn't enthused.

Apparently aware of the public parking lot outside of the motel, he kept his voice down. "Who the _hell_ are you?" Malice however, was in full. He was actually waiting for an answer, and Kate took that as a good sign.

"Um, how much do you remember from last night?" His eyes widened a bit then narrowed harshly.

"Werewolf" Kate wasn't sure why, but this bothered her and she shot back.

"I have a name, thank you. It's Kate."

"Well, _Kate_, did you do this?" he indicated the gauze around his arm, which she had forgotten. Hopefully no one in the lobby noticed.

"The bite or the bandage?"

"I believe I have my answer" Noticing a bit of an audience precipitating near the entrance- she could make out the concierge and another male, likely the day manager. The y needed out, and fast. Turning back to her now fully cogent companion, Kate made the discovery of his absence. _Oh_, _crap_. There was really no time to look for him, she could see the concierge pressing something to his ear, likely a cell. Still she felt responsible and quite frankly she didn't want to be alone on the road again.

Moving to allow a car to pass, a dingy Chevrolet Monte Carlo, she was startled when the passenger door swung open.

Staring across from the drivers side, with two loose wires indicating he had hotwired the ignition, he sat, looking positively bored.

"Get in" Kate hesitated. "Hey if you'd like to spend the night in interrogation explaining why you were with a fourteen year old in a motel, with a bandaged arm and why you've been hitching across this great state, I'd be happy to leave you" Kate hopped in, fastening her seat belt as she did.

She had to do at least _one_ responsibly adult thing today.

They had been driving for about fifteen minutes when Kate couldn't hold her curiosity back any longer. "How'd you know I'd been Hitch hiking?" He turned to look at her.

"You're shows are dusty, with red clay. When I came here, I saw red clay roads a little while back. So if you had driven here, your shows would be cleaner. And, of course, we were standing in that parking lot a good ten minutes. You obviously had no idea what you were going to do, hence…" He trailed off and gestured to the car they were in.

She ventured another question "Where are we headed anyway?"

"_I'm_ headed back to my place. This car will be yours, and then we part ways.

"Right…" she stared emphatically at him.

"Jacob."

"Right, Jacob. How's the arm?" He shifted to show his now bear arm, replete with a faint crescent scar.

"Well enough, after you used it as a chew toy. And may I ask what the _fuck_ was that about?"

"I…. Kate paused… thought you were someone else"

"Obviously. I'm guessing not a friend, then?"

"No, of course not. So, Kate countered, What were _you_ doing in a morgue in the dead of night?"

"Same as you with those college kids. Feeding."

Kate became grim. "W-what?"

"Campus kids, one was ripped up the other stabbed? That was you wasn't it?"

Kate's face told him no, it was not, and Jacob was vaguely aware he had crossed a line. Which one or why, he wasn't sure.

"Let me out" Kate said, staring ahead.

"What?" Jacob was incredulous. This was a highway, after all.

"Let me out, please" Her voice held steady, but was tight and angry.

Jacob would have done as she asked, however leaving her on the side of a highway seemed cruel, and not knowing where the conversation had taken a wrong turn was driving him-no pun intended- crazy.

"Listen, like I said when we get to my place…" Kate snapped.

"Just let the FUCK out of this piece of SHIT car!"

"Not until you tell me what the hell is going on!"

"You think I killed Michael and Brian for food!

Michael and Brian? "You knew… them? Kate was silent, staring into the windshield intensely. "What happened?"

After a beat and deciding that Jacob deserved to know why she had attacked him in the morgue, Kate turned to him and said very quietly, "Sometimes being careful is all it takes" Jacob arched an eyebrow, and waited for her to continue.

"I met Michael and his friend, Brian, during my first year at university"

"I'm guessing we don't like Brian?" Jacob interjected. Kate stared at him. "You talk about him as _Michael's_ friend. Not yours, so…

"Well, he was a nice guy… at first, but after a bit he… lost his way, or found it and it turned to be fucked up. I don't know which." Kate paused. "I think Brian… thought that… people looked down on him, and that's why things didn't go his way. He was- Kate became tired of the word, _was_- angry and wanted to… take something, without it being given to him by someone stronger or better off"

Kate thought back to the footage Brian had shown them, of Professor Ludensky, how he seemed to relish holding it over him knowing what he was. There was that word again.

"So after Ludensky, our English teacher, bit Michael and Brian forced him to turn him, they got into it, Michael and Brian, because Brian thought it was over with those FBI guys killing Ludensky, he stabbed Michael and then…"

Kate rubbed the shoulder where Brian had bit her. "He bit me, Kate finished, not… _too_ hard, but it was done, and then I cried."

"So who did in douchbag McGee?"

"I realized that if I could do what Michael could do…"

"You killed Brian to avenge Michael"

Put like that, it almost sounded heroic. "Look, you know more about… _this,_ then I do…. when you turn… how much of the person who does it is inside of you?"

"I… think it's just a viral thing, or something, so none, I guess"

"Good"

Looking up, Kate saw Jacob pull off into another lane and then into a residential area, although it seemed run down.

"What did you mean, 'FBI'?" Jacob asked suddenly. The rest of the ride had been quiet, so Kate started when the peace was broken.

"Some guys with FBI badges showed up, and asked about the murders"

"Ludensky, right? And then they just killed him?"

"That's what happened, but I didn't believe these guys for government agents even before that."

"That's because they're hunters"

"Hunters?"

"Of us, and others like us"

"What are you, exactly?" The question was asked softly, so as not to offend.

"Kitsune. Fox people," Jacob clarified when Kate stared curiously.

"I get why they would come after me, but you feed on the dead, granted, that's not the most placating detail today, but still…"

"Feeding on the dead is a conscious decision, like vegetarianism, in actuality Kitsune eat the brains of the living, or the pituitary glands at least. Most do."

"But why did you come back, I mean if the hunters were off your tail…" Jacob continued.

"They're not." Pulling out the article, she showed it to Jacob who scanned it, then stopped.

"This isn't the work of hunters"

Ghouls enjoy rifling through graves. Before, in times since past, treasure would be their reward. Now however, it was essentially a big fuck you to the mortals who pushed them to such depths. Why put anything back, why were they scum, and the, even rotting, meat of the humans so sacred? It was hypocrisy and any Ghoul would tell you that. But not the three in Washtenaw County who disturbed the graves of Michael Wheeler. Not the three that were disemboweled, the like the body that lay in Brian Wilcox's grave. All Ghouls are weak, and die when the heads are significantly harmed, as Jacob had promised. It made the train ride back better, but leaving the county, Kate felt restless. Until….

Until Jacob explained that he was looking for revenge too. And as it was, those FBI-hunters, actually were his targets. Jacob wasn't clear, but Kate was curious.

"How do we find them, though?"

"We look for something out of the ordinary, and they'll be there…" Jacob replied.

Melissa Rose took the babysitting gig only because she needed money and contrary to her high school guidance counselor's claim, a college degree was not a ticket to success, at least not immediate success or even an immediate job. It was 9:30 at night when the phone rang. Melissa picked it up, and after awhile dropped running upstairs. Stopping at a door, she gingerly opened it to find…

Nothing, just two sleeping angels. Shutting the door, she turned to go back downstairs, only an hour and a half left on her shift, and stopped abruptly. It wasn't possible. Melissa opened her mouth to scream, but it was cut off in a gurgle.

The gurgle of blood from the slash across her neck, spraying the wall with blood.

A/N: ok, so, a big thanks to ashwingsmokefeather for my first FF review ever! From now on after chapter seven, covering Krissy and Jesse, the chapters will have names and eight will begin with the death of poor Melissa and Kate and Jacob investigating, looking for Sam and Dean. Chapter seven up soon. – LoungeLizard.


	7. Chapter 7

"And in other news, extreme weather patterns have battered the Midwest…"

Krissy muted the voice and let her eyes wander over the swirling patterns that accompanied the weather report. She couldn't understand any of it, and she never did figure out what the point of the diagrams were, no one could check it to make sure it was factual, except for other meteorologists. She imagined that meteorologists were not in the business of whistle blowing other meteorologists. She couldn't imagine anyone who would.

There were several television sets in her room, some appropriated from garage sales and large and boxy, some bought from store and were (for a small amount of time) the newest and most advanced models, and the rest were appropriated from computer screens, cell phones and portables, like a tablet or e-reader. In all there were fifteen screens, and Krissy tried her best to soak them all in. Most of the older models were tuned into different weather stations or news during the forecast.

The rest were tuned into politics, a few religious channels, a couple set to educational programming (PBS and the like), and finally a few tied to remotes with which she sifted through the channels at random.

"Hey Phil, I say, hey Phil," called the weatherman on a set tuned to channel 4.

"Yes, Jack?" answered the weatherman on the set tuned to channel 2, who was explaining an oncoming drought.

Wait, that's not right.

"You say it's hot?"

"Well, Yeah."

"How _hot_ is it?"

'Phil' turned from the general direction of 'Jack' towards Krissy. "Like Hell, Phil. Just… like….hell."

The set turned black then, as did the one with Jack, and all the others, as the dim room darkened, all the way to pitch black.

The sound of screeching tires and honking horns woke Krissy, who found herself on black top. _Grimy_ Blacktop. Starting, she glanced around, her eyes falling on a white Toyota Camry, whose driver, a balding, middle aged man, was wedged out the driver's side window.

"Get out of the bloody way! Morons!" He said in a cockney British accent.

Krissy complied, pulling herself up and walking or, at least, what could be best described as _cabo wobbing_, to the side of what she could now see was a parking lot. Reflected in a puddle of standing water and motor oil about a foot away from the wall she rested against, a neon sign. Looking up, she saw the sign attached to a squat gray brick building, only four stories high, at least compared to a few high rises adjacent.

_Chimera Haus_, read the sign, the's' forming an underscore. The red and sky blue contrast of the light began to make her feel nauseous.

Deciding the best bet was to venture inside and see if there anyone who could tell her what was going on; Krissy ventured toward the north side of the lot and encountered a long line, presumably leading to the entrance. She noted that most of the patrons were part of the club scene, or at least as far as she knew. While most social supernatural creatures did use clubs and bars to solicit victims and increase their numbers, most of her father's hunts had been loners or pairs, like the Vetala.

Some had on leather collars and the like, and sported heavily cropped and buzzed haircuts.

Despite herself, she felt conspicuous in her flannel shirt, messy bun and acid washed jeans. However there didn't seem to be any other way in, so Krissy was stuck at the back of the line. Despite not having a clue as to what was happening to her, a vague notion of a sense of foreboding, yes a vague notion of a sense, not even a complete feeling, like something was wrong, but probably not. Krissy was a girl who would rely on her gut to get through decisions she couldn't work through with her head, but right now it felt as though both were under several miles of water.

Contrary to just a few moments before the line seemed to quicken and became rapidly shorter, and within minutes, Krissy found herself before a large, heavyset and dark skinned man, obviously the bouncer.

"Name?" He said, with a gravelly and dismissive voice.

"Kris-" She stopped herself. Something told her that using her real name would be a bad idea, and pseudonym made itself available in her mind mere seconds after.

"Kayla," Krissy responded after noticing the bouncer eyeing her up and down. Checking a list attached to a clip board, the man nodded.

"Hold out your hand" Krissy held out her left hand. The bouncer pressed a small stamp to the back of her hand, an odd symbol that looked like a circle, with a few archaic symbols revolving around it, two looked like a 'z' and an 'n' another like an incomplete infinity symbol, the topmost like a isosceles triangle and another like the number three, with a center symbol in the circle like an 's' but with angled lines.

The bouncer allowed her to pass, and Krissy entered, feeling just how crowded the place was, a large dance floor made to feel cramped by many frantically moving bodies contrasted with those loitering about. Krissy could make out a bar, across from that a stand for a DJ to mix records and towards the opposite angle to her and the entrance, a stairwell, likely leading to a private space.

Abandoning her original aim, Krissy fought her way through the forms to reach the stairs. The music thumped in her eardrums, loud and suffocating, even more so, if it were possible than the bodies around her. Sill, she was making progress. The only problem being the feeling like was walking on ice while her legs were beginning to fall asleep. It was as though her body, with every movement would continue in that movement's direction until Krissy could exert enough gumption to stop herself. Nearing the stair case, she heard an announcement blared over the intercom system.

"Well, ladies and gents, it seems we have a _very_ special guest tonight. Our very own _Human_."

Somehow, despite knowing nothing amiss before, besides the selective amnesia her mind had chose to curse (or was it bless) her with, she turned, with a familiar sinking feeling.

Hundreds if not thousands of obsidian, pupil-less eyes stared at her, and even though the music still played and the forms were blurry, the eyes were distinct, and the deathly stillness of them made the sounds seem far away and muffled, making her feel alone.

Then the room exploded, black smoke swarming into a hissing funnel of encroaching obliteration.

Finally, Krissy remembered her legs and ran, as fast as she could, despite the still present feeling that her movements were slow and only the slightest bit ahead of her pursuer. Running up the stairs she reached for the door at the landing, feeling the darkness overtake her, but still managing to pull herself into the landing, before everything went dark.

This time, she awoke screaming. As though in competition for vocal magnitude, machines vigorously beeped with intensity and urgency. Finding her self attached to her formidable adversary through an intravenous tube in her arm and a few diodes to her head, she pulled off what she could and, got out of the hospital bed, which made sense, ass the room came into focus, she could see it was a hospital room, and judging from the wall paper of miniature Donald Ducks in varying outfits, the pediatric ward.

Walking down a deserted hallway, Krissy could see that the entire hospital was deserted, and given the fact that she felt like she had been running for at least a day, took a moment to stop and think. She paused, taking a deep breath. First she had been watching her monitors for unnatural and unusual phenomena, and then, found herself outside Club Dread … and now here. _Wherever _here_ is_. Looking herself over she found she was still wearing her clothes, just underneath a hospital gown. She also noticed the stamp still on her arm. Staring a bit closer the design, blood red and about an inch in diameter, she could knew she could remember it from somewhere, but where? A logo? No, too complex and too crude. A map? No, again too crude, and too simple. Maybe… a sigil? Most sigils Krissy knew off were hypothetical in nature too her. most monsters were warded off by iron or silver, and concerning demons, she had little experience, but could tell this was not a demon sigil; their sigils were very angular and included triangular patterns throughout the design, and as for warding, the lone way she knew of to do that was with a Devil's trap, a heptagram, not a simple circle. No, the simplicity suggested it was not contained within the Lesser Key of Solomon, or other magical polygons, it was again a circle, and circles were not used in religions for warding or protection, that alone belonged to continuous uni-cursal designs. So, not chaos magick or exorcism rites, obviously not Catholic or Christian, the internet in its treasure trove of occult and religious information, if you knew where to look, and Krissy did, told her that.

She stopped. That's right she was a hunter. Not just her dad, she too had solved cases, all on her own. Maybe that's what was going on here? A case had gone wrong? Horribly, _horribly_, wrong? Could be after all, this was likely a dream. All the intuitive aptitude, the gaps the feeling of control but too… _subtle_ to be a physical nerve and muscle based connection. Dream indeed.

Or a coma. _There's a lovely thought._

She decided it was best to ditch the hospital, not so chic, lots of freak, gear, and eased the IV out of arm, wincing as the long needle slid out, and pressed hard against the injection site hoping to stem the blood, and thought it a good idea to wrap the now disrobed hospital gown around as a sort of tourniquet.

A little bit of wandering found her the door, which slid open, and Krissy had to admit at being slightly anxious that they wouldn't open, or they would… into a bottomless hole.

But, no, they acquiesced to an equally deserted street.

Almost deserted, anyway.

Same screech of rubber on blacktop, and more, as Krissy had decided, irritating, honking.

"What does this look like, a crosswalk?! Morons!"

Same cranky European.

"Yes, it is dillweed!" Krissy had had enough of this, and it indeed was a crosswalk.

The man paused looked around, muttered "Bollocks" under his breath, but loud enough to be heard in the still of the streets and continued on after Krissy moved to let him pass.

After he was gone, Krissy had an epiphany. He was the only other entity in this…Universe that was even remotely normal, or at least cogent, and not part of some trap, besides her.

So, perhaps he was important. But gone, and Krissy had let him slip right through her fingers. Smacking herself in the head and letting out a groan, she sat on the sidewalk, and resigned to tapping her foot on the ground.

It seemed to her, that each place she had been was some sort of level, or a plane, and each time she came closer to… what?

First she was inside, and could barely move before she'd been overtaken, then she was able to move about, but still caught too close for comfort, and managed to finesse herself into where she needed to go. Now completely free, but still trapped… what would be the advancement in the pattern?

It was like a video game, really. First, an introductory level. Then, a more complex level with a clear objective and, finally, a vast level with a more subtle objective. That man was key, obviously she new that much. And he appeared every time she passed in front of his car.

Or, at least, every time she possibly _would_ appear in front of his car. Walking toward the crosswalk again, she allowed herself to cross resisting the urge to look around.

SCREECH. HONK. "Oh, bloody hell" The voice was resigned as was the man

"Wait!" The man paused startled, and did as she asked.

"Who are you?" That seemed a reasonable enough question.

He apparently thought so, no longer angry, but needed to think of an answer. Slowly he began to speak.

"Fergus…. Fergus McLeod" He stepped out of his car, and belying the dingy appearance of his vehicle, had a crisp dark blue business suit on, with a lighter tie for contrast, and polished oxford dress shoes.

"Hi, Fergus McLeod" She said with the tone she would use for a small child, "Do you now why you're here?"

"Talking to you?" It took Krissy a minute to make out the answer sincere, rather than sarcastic. He had no clue, same as her.

"Well, where are you going?"

"That I know," he said, rather proud of himself, which he corrected after a moments pause.

"Well?" Krissy's patience was wearing thin, and it wasn't much thick in the first place.

"I have to find someone."

"Who?"

"That I don't know," he said promptly. Krissy ventured a guess.

"Maybe… me?" She was hopeful.

"No," he said after awhile.

Because that would be too easy, wouldn't it?

"Well, do you think you could give me a lift?"

Fergus looked a bit uneasy, but nodded, "I suppose it wouldn't do me any harm."

"Where to?" Krissy hadn't considered that.

"I think… we're both headed in the same direction." Fergus shrugged and after both were situated, began driving down one more deserted roadway.

Krissy had hoped that someway, this would give her a way out of this place. But apparently, to her growing disappointment, that was not the case.

That's when all hell broke loose.

From the sky, a massive shaft of light burst through, and with one shuddering crash, everything went black once more.

When Krissy woke, again, she found herself in (what was left of) Fergus's car.

"I'm too old this crap," she muttered, still in a daze.

Fergus had managed to free himself, and was now attempting to relieve her of her metal casing. The door then fell off, rather anticlimactically for his efforts. Now outside a new set of random buildings, both were aware of the multiple shafts of light roving in and around the high-rises. "So, Krissy tried, I don't suppose you know what the hell that was, would you?"

Fergus shook his head. "Well, I guess we're walking. Do you still know where you're headed without your car?"

Fergus thought for a moment and nodded. Pointing forward, up a street.

"Great." Sighing, she followed Fergus. It was about fifteen minutes later when Krissy began to get a vague sense of some notion…. Again.

"Wait…." Fergus stopped but had a annoyed expression.

"I need to locate this individual"

"You don't even know who this 'individual' is!"

That's when she saw it. Her house, smack dab in the middle of a city with demons, destructive beams of light, and…

Why was the window smashed, though?

Oh, no.

Krissy turned to see Fergus be knocked on his ass. The Rakasha that had posed as a delivery man several weeks ago, now standing over him. Or, at least in the same form as that Rakasha, as that Rakasha was long dead, its body burned and ashes dumped.

Krissy dodged as the Hindi spirit came for her, smashing a window display of some unidentifiable big box store. If Krissy was not yet certain this was a hallucination, or dream or whatever…. _or coma,_ her mind reminded her, unhelpfully, she was convinced now; obviously whoever constructed this world was unaware of a Rakasha's hunting patterns, but, hopefully if she was right, was aware of her _memories_ of the incident, and knew what would kill a Rakasha.

She took off running eyes set on the assured safety of her home. The Rakasha was fast behind, closing in, but just like before, and contrary to reality was unable to actuality catch her.

Finally, she shoulder checked her way into the dream version of her townhouse, nearly falling, as it was unlocked. She ran upstairs, searching for the brass doorknob. The Chambers had installed a few protections, even if supposedly done with hunting. Among these were door knobs made from certain metals, iron, silver, and brass and so on, for emergencies. Reaching the brass handle, she began to attempt to wrench it from its socket. Hearing footsteps behind her, heavy and frantic it was but a few seconds left.

Krissy was spun around roughly; she reflexively raised her hand in front of her face to shield herself, cursing when the Rakasha wounded her left hand. Feeling something warm and wet on her hand she knew she was bleeding, rather heavily. It was time to wake up.

The creature stood over, prepared to finish her, she grinned through her pain. "Surprise," she said in a sweet voice.

And then she stabbed it through the chest with the knob she had tucked in her sleeve. For an inhuman creature, 'surprise' was an emotion it did portray well, at least until the face turned gray tinted the disguise dropped away some, revealing deep ridges and small pointed pupils. Krissy rested against the wall, and despite the fact she was technically unconscious, she very much wanted to sleep. However, a bright, shimmering light prevented her from dozing off, emanating from her hand where the Rakasha had cut her. the stamp on her hand now covered in blood felt warm, and in an attempt to stem the blood flow, muttering about having to do this again, gripped her right over her left, as Fergus came bounding up the stairs.

Everything again faded from view, but this time the brilliant red of the sigil on her hand expanded to pure, white blinding light.

Jesse was corned. Two angels to the left of him, two to the right. They began to approach when Jesse began to glow, not of his volition, but it gave the celestials pause. The light enveloped them all, and when it faded, the angels were gone.

And in their place one young girl, that Jesse knew as a hunter, and one man, a '_meatsuit'_ for the crossroads demon, Crowley.

A/N: okay, so next up, Kate and Jacob look for Dean, trying to track their whereabouts by solving cases, albeit reluctantly at first. ~ LoungeLizard.


	8. Mean Girls'

"Um, stupid question, I know, but do they… do they always have their eyes open?"

Detective Clarkson looked at the, obviously, rookie beat cop, but the coroner beat him to it.

"Nah, kid, the eyes are open cause of the adrenaline" The rookie blinked.

"So, was she chased?" Detective Clarkson chose to field this one.

"Don't think so. No tracks in the carpet, no fibers. We've got shit to go on." Clarkson frowned.

The rookie glanced at the body. "Isn't that cut a little…? I don't know, low?"

Clarkson looked incredulous. "Compared to what, exactly?"

"Well it's low to the chest. If you're gonna slash someone's throat, wouldn't you aim higher?"

"Listen, kid, leave the detecting to the detectives, kay?" The rookie started nodding, looking a bit dejected.

"Uh, Greg?" The coroner asked.

"Yeah?" Clarkson turned to the kneeling medical examiner.

"It _is_ a bit low"

"How?"

The coroner frowned and looked up. "If this was spur of the moment, which generally with this kind of thing it is, you don't aim for where the throat meets the chest, you aim for trachea, where the neck arches forward. This is strange, to say the least.

Clarkson turned back to the rookie, who had watched the exchange quietly. He frowned, but was willing to give credit where credit was due. "Good catch kid. You looking to make detective?"

The rookie grinned, "I've only started today, sir"

Clarkson nodded. Pulling out a card, he handed it over. The rookie took it and looked at it curiously.

"When you get a little less green, or you need a reference, give me a call. I'll back you up."

The rookie nodded, and looked to say something else when the dispatch shoulder mounted radio crackled to life, and the rookie glanced at it. "I've got to go." Holding up the card as she left, called back a "thank you" and turned down the stairs, as the evidence collection in the murder of Marissa Rose continued.

The rookie beat cop continued on, outside, nodding to another cop, as she bent under and lifted the yellow boundary tape surrounding the property, and turned down the block, where a few patrol cars were parked.

Passing them however, she turned once more and aimed for a dusty, beat up Monte Carlo. Pausing beside it, and looking around, she opened the passenger side and dropped in, shutting the door rapidly.

"Someone looks pleased with themselves" Jacob remarked.

"I guess I am" Kate smiled.

"A girl died, you know" Jacob replied, not meaning as cutting as it came out

Kate's smile vanished. "I-I know…"

Feeling like an ass, and eager to change the subject, Jacob spoke quickly, "So did you get to test you're theory, can you believe me now that this just a '_normal'_ murder?"

Kate turned sharply, a determined gaze in her eyes. "_No_, I'm more positive than ever that this is a case. _Our_ kind of case."

After dispatching the ghouls, Kate had agreed to accompany Jacob in seeking out who she now knew as Sam and Dean Winchester, despite the fact that Jacob hadn't asked.

Departing to Jacob's place (it wasn't lost on Kate how Jacob avoided calling the place _home_), they found it empty. Apparently, the burrow decided to ditch when Jacob didn't come back. However their concern was tampered by the fact that they had tried to smash open a large lock box that contained the few things that Jacob. Kate, not being privy to that tidbit, suggested, optimistically, that maybe they were curious as to where he had gone and thought his things would be a good place to look for clues. Jacob's facial expression afterward decidedly put that theory to rest. Luckily, nothing was missing from the beaten metal box. Kate noted, when Jacob opened the box with a key tucked deep in his pocket, which explained why Kate didn't find it when she tried looking for identification on him back in the hotel room, a few textbooks, a shirt (from the looks of it a, women's) a small, leather-bound book, likely a journal, a few dollars, the size of the bills, Kate wasn't sure, and a photograph of what appeared to be Jacob and his mother.

She was rather young no more than early thirties, and if Jacob was, say, fourteen, she would have had him, by her estimation in her early twenties, if not her late teens. Which was a concern: a photograph like this suggested that his mom wouldn't leave behind her son or to others willingly, and likely something had happened. And that meant that, when pretending to be his mom while still in his fever haze, Kate was pretending to be a dead woman. A mixture of guilt and some other horrid feeling, perhaps dread, swelled to a queasiness that forced her to excuse herself and run outside hastily and empty the (nonexistent) contents of her stomach into the road. After a few moments of dry heaving, Kate turned to reenter the premises, only to find Jacob standing there, quirking his eyebrow, eyes slightly wide, looking all the more younger for it.

Kate swallowed down a fresh wave of nausea. "You don't get carsick, do you? Because that's going to be a problem" He gestured to the dark shape of the Chevy. Kate stood up quickly. "We've been here for half an hour. Bit of a delayed effect for carsickness, don't you think?" Jacob shrugged. Kate was hoping Jacob would bring up the incident at the hotel, but instead, he reached inside to pop the trunk of the Monte, and then dropped the lock box in.

"There's nothing for me here, anymore," he said leaning up against the car. "Well, should we be going?"

Kate nodded and climbed into the car as Jacob resumed his seat behind the steering wheel. Deciding not to birch the subject further, Kate asked about the second most pressing subject on her mind: "How does a fourteen year old learn to drive?"

"Thirteen" Kate stared.

"Come again?"

"I'm thirteen. And when you're constantly hunted, driving is a good tool to have." Kate saw her opening and took it.

"Your mother taught you to drive?" Jacob's lips formed a tight line.

"No. Some other relatives in the burrow."

"Burrow?"

"Fox creatures, remember? Its slang for a place where a group of us live, especially family." The road slipped by for a while before either ventured another attempt at conversation. Finding her courage depleted, Kate couldn't bring up the topic again. She was surprised when Jacob did.

"So, mother, father? I mean are they looking for you, or what?"

"Sure, but I don't think I want to meet them… like this."

"As a monster, you mean." It was a statement, not a question.

"Listen, I, I don't think I would have cared so much if it had been Michael who… you know" Getting no response, she continued "But it wasn't and I know they'll ask questions and I really don't want to answer them"

"See that's the problem with your kind."

"My _kind?_ What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

"Vamps, werewolves, turned humans. You think you better than us and when you find yourselves in our shoes, you act all guilty. I mean if you petted a strange dog, and on instinct, it bit you, would you be as ashamed. No, and its no different here."

"What, you think I asked for this?" Kate glared at him, and Jacob shot her a confused look.

"No. That's my point- it was an accident, sometimes situations get out of hand" Jacob had a faraway look on his face, obviously deep in thought.

"This wasn't an accident." Kate didn't notice. Her voice trembled, and resisting the urge to cry, faraway as it had been the last day or two, was now the first thing on her mind.

"Yes it was, even if he turned himself willingly, he wouldn't know the consequences, and transformed he couldn't help it, full moon and all.

"He wasn't transformed" Kate's voice was small, as she was beginning to understand the disconnect in their conversation.

"So he bit you with human teeth?" Jacob tone was laced with incredulity.

"No, he-he shifted bit down and then went back."

"Werewolves are not in control of their transformations." Jacob stated in a matter of fact tone.

"Pureblood" Kate whispered. Jacob stared at her.

"What's pureblood?"

"When those guys, Sam and Dean, when they were talking, we spied on them, and found out that some werewolves can transform when they want to, because- Kate struggled to remember the words they had used they're purebloods, like, close to the original werewolf." It helped ease the urge to cry to know something that Jacob didn't.

"Original werewolf…. I've heard stories about a fist kitsune, but yeah, just stories. I didn't think any were actually around."

"Well, I don't know if they are, just that what I can do, I can do because of that." Kate decided that, given the newfound upper-hand in surprising Jacob, she should try apologizing.

"I'm sorry for what happened back there." Jacob blinked

"Back where?"

"At the hotel… I sorry about tricking you… when you were under the effects of a fever… and you know.

"Just drop it." Jacob's voice was level, and held no detectable malice.

Kate did.

"So, what exactly are we looking for?"

"Well, with the cash we lifted off of 'dead and loving it' back there, and the money I have stored, we have enough to get some gas, and make use of the credit cards too for other stuff.

It still seemed odd that creatures who feasted on the dead would have credit cards, but she supposed that even she would need amenities eventually… like a shower.

After arriving in the next state over, with only a few pit stops for food, or rather whatever small lizard crosser path both decided that it was time to stretch their legs and give it a rest. After checking a convenience store for any mention of her missing status from the doorway, the two walked in, Kate focused on toiletries, while Jacob busied himself among the snacks and cakes, looking for something to alleviate his growing hunger until they got to a morgue for suitable sustenance. Pituitary glands are essentially Vitamin C for Kitsune: they can go without it, but with increasing health problems. The fever had reduced Jacob's strength somewhat, but only a little; he had since grown out of his sickliness as a child, some medicine always brought it down and after regular feeding resumed everything was fine. However, as of now, he was starving. For creatures of his kind, the standard food is much lie it is for humans; while glands are what they should eat, they often find other things, like, say for instance, in Jacob's case, Pizza, taste better. It was the flipside to the urges that he assumed Kate would be happening, Kitsune knew well enough that a werewolf's drive to feed on hearts was not to be hindered, combined with the released inhibitions of the werewolf's human form; one would be dealing with an enraged, hungry and committed beast. For Kitsune and other creatures born to their stock, rather than turned, the drive was more about nutrition, about removing the hunger from one's belly, than satisfying a craving- the portion of the brain they fed on was small, enabling one to swallow it whole, taste not being the priority it was for a creature that revolved around feeding, who made it a part of their culture, especially when they congregated.

That was why ethics weren't a big part of the mindset of kitsunes and most other creatures of their type: it was simply nature, not pleasure. Hell, most of the people Kitsune's fed on were the type of people that others wanted gone- drug dealers, thugs, and for some of the more cynical of their race, the homeless, prostitutes and the mentally ill. Amy, Jacob's mom, had given up fresh kills until Jacob had gotten sick- and Jacob had a hard time with that. Besides the obvious guilt that fed his desire to slaughter Dean Winchester (not that it needed any more motive), Jacob felt that he had forced his mom to betray her principles, to lose a part of herself to who they were- while before that had found a good mix; neither embracing the murderous element of their situation, nor reveling in guilt over their predicament.

"You ready to go? Jacob was startled out of his revere and turned to face Kate to shopping bags in hand. Grabbing a few crackers, some jerky and stopping at the refrigerator a fruit drink, nodding to Kate after paying.

Outside, Kate had occupied herself on the walk back to their car with a copy of the local newspaper, and after a few minutes tapped Jacob on the shoulder.

"Would this be what you're looking for?" Jacob took the paper and looked at the page it was folded to. His eyes fell to a headline: INVESIGATION OF MURDERED WOMAN ONGOING.

Scanning the article, the phrases 'throat slashed' 'no signs of forced entry' and 'lack of leads' jumped out first at him.

"Well?" Jacob thought for a moment. Just because the police couldn't find anything out didn't make it supernatural, it just meant that the murder was hard to solve

"There are a lot of unsolved murders. I don't thinks it's our problem" Kate didn't let up.

"Exactly what criteria are you basing that on? What you have a better lead?"

"No…"

"Then let's see, couldn't hurt."

"It couldn't hurt to go chase after an active crime scene? With cops everywhere and you likely declared missing?"

"I'm an adult, there's probably nothing the cops could do unless they made the connection back to Michael and Brian. And if they haven't yet, maybe they won't." Kate sounded like she was trying to convince herself more than him.

"Fine. But I won't be convinced until we get to see the crime scene. Or, at least one of does…."

And so, one awkward conversation with a costume counterwoman later, involving the word 'Role-play' and waiting near the crime scene until an irate sergeant started to tell her to get her ass inside, thought better of using the word 'ass' to a lower ranking, female officer and gave her orders near the scene. She hadn't expected the body to still be there, but given the brief and preliminary nature of the article, it shouldn't have surprised her.

Now in the Chevy and using Kate's laptop fresh with an internet connection bought with the deceased ghouls credit cards, Kate and Jacob were busy sifting through whatever they could find on Melissa Rose. Jacob had to admit the cut was suspicious and if it was suspicious enough they may have a chance of spotting the Winchesters. It was a long shot of course, but Jacob knew that most hunters only investigated a particular kind of supernatural creature, and even the ones more broad in their appetite stayed close to home. That left a handful of hunters who hunted regionally and nationally and hunted a variety of targets, further limited to those who had a wide repertoire and knowledge enough to recognize a hunt.

"So, what do you think it cold be?" Jacob again had been lost in thought, and this time his head snapped up violently.

"I'm not even sure there is anything here, but if we're looking at no forced entry no signs of a struggle… then we're looking at something telekinetic, likely. No body parts missing (as far as Kate's description of the body and a quick call using the card Detective Clarkson gave her to field him a call suggested) means that this wasn't a feeding, and since its pretty simple- I mean no rituals or weird symbols or unexplained phenomenon" he stated when Kate gave him a quixotic look.

"Probably a ghost, then," he finished anticlimactically, a bit too much for Kate's taste.

"Ghost. As in Casper, the friendly?"

"Well, Casper was not a ghost in the typical ghost sense; he's more a creature who happens to be a ghost, unless you follow the movie plot, in which case yeah, something like that, although considering this girl is dead, 'Friendly' wouldn't be an apt adjective, would it?"

"No, and big Casper fan, are we?"

"My… mom used to read them to me when I was small.

Now it was Kate's turn to feel like an ass. "I didn't know… I'm sorry to bring her up, I.." Kate stammered a bit before Jacob held up his hand.

"Look. Let's just get this out in the open, okay? My mom's dead. She died two years ago, when I was eleven. I miss her every day. And you're right you didn't know, so it's not your fault, so stop apologizing for this or the hotel thing, you did what you needed to do, so live with it and get over it."

Kate was quiet, so Jacob decided to fill the silence. "Ghosts are real. Monsters are real. Pretty much everything you have ever heard of in any myth, or story, or urban legend is real, or is _partly_, or _was_ partly real. Every religion, every weird thing and a hell of a lot of disappearances, which when you think about it should be a much better scenario than the alternative, that horrible and sick sons-of-bitches did those things for kicks and giggles, or whatever."

"Are mummies real? I mean- you know… the whole curses and reanimated mummy thing?" Jacob screwed his face as though he had eaten something sour.

"What? No. Of course not. The Egyptians didn't wrap both legs individually; they wrapped them together, like a straight jacket. What, you think there are hopping mummies just bouncing around…." Jacob's sentence dissolved in a laughing fit at the thought of a very angry, _hopping_ mummy, bouncing along to some ominous tune of some old horror film. Apparently this was a thought they both shared, as Kate joined him soon after, doubling over, looking even more absurd because of the police uniform.

Recovering from his fit, Jacob wiped away a few tears that had budded in the corners of his eyes. It had been a long time since he had laughed, a long time since he had to explain to someone about this world, about his, and it felt good, spilling his guts felt good, in the same way vomiting makes one feel good, or doing a large amount of work does: nervous, stressed and angry at your predicament, but impressed that hurdle had been cleared. Restarting the car as Kate regained a steady breathing rhythm, Jacob explained, "We need to do research."

At the library, after Kate changed in the car, while Jacob waited outside in the alley they were parked in, the two looked through a few old copies of local and international newspapers looking for something that happened within the last decade or so. That was it. _Something that happened._ Not exactly a very specific search.

That didn't pan out. So they decided to continue their internet resources. Not wanting to risk Detective Clarkson getting wise to their true identities, the decided it was best to continue searching the internet for clues. It was Kate who suggested that this sort of thing might only make sense if something _else_ had occurred in the past few days. After all, the murder seemed out of the blue. Something must have triggered it, and if it was personal, then something recent must have connections with the past. Typing in articles, one month time frame, and the search query _murders/homicide + unexplained_, Kate purveyed the results, nothing in Buffalo.

"Try removing the 'unexplained' part, I want to see something," Jacob suggested, and Kate complied. The new search results didn't seem any more fruitful than the last, until-"Wait, stop!" Jacob said in a hushed whisper. He taped the screen, second search result on the second page. Clicking it, the page shifted to a black background regarding a rather mainstream paper, and contained the following headline: DEATH OF PRISONER FOR 12 YEAR SLAY.

"It says hear that Ralph Greenwald was killed in a prison fight two weeks ago. He- Kate swallowed- he was taken in for the murder of Anna-Beth Gonzalez…. was connected to but never charged with three other homicides…. All involving a laceration made to the… base of the neck" She looked up at Jacob, behind her, who looked down meeting her gaze.

He relented. "Okay. You win. This is defiantly something supernatural." Kate continued to scan the article.

"According to this, he was caught when three of her friends testified to having seen him in the area while they were going to the movies. But it doesn't list their names. What'll we do now?" Jacob looked confused.

"We wait. The Winchesters will show up, and that's my cue."

"What we just leave these girls to this… thing?" Jacob still looked confused.

"Girls? What girls?"

"The girls he's obviously murdering for revenge for sending him to prison!" Her whisper wasn't hushed enough for the standards of a few patrons who cast an array of dirty looks and odd stares her way.

"Do I look like a hunter?" He replied when the patrons had turned away.

"You look like somebody who should give a shit."

"Look, I'm very sorry about this, but I can't go pursuing a ghost- I have no idea what to do-"

"So you're scared, is that it?"

Jacob became serious. "Scared, no. Concerned, yes. Kate, you don't know the first thing about hunting."

She was surprised when Jacob used her name; until then he mostly just talked at her. "But you do know, the first thing at least. You could be… better than the people that hunt you and the others. You could protect people instead of just killing."

Jacob had let her in on what, in general hunters did, and why they did it: slaughter, because they got to make the decisions and call the shots, judge jury and executioner, all in one.

"Better?"

"Y-Yes. Who better to change things?"

"Who said I wanted to change things?"

"Well if you could, wouldn't you?"

"Yes, if I could, I would change things, but there's no point in talking about the past now." Aubrey Lyons gripped the edge of the nautical desk that her parents had bought her for her eighteenth birthday. Her hair, usually artificially straight, was in its curly state, a bit frizzy as well. Her one bedroom apartment was dominated by the desk, but the heavy wooden piece of furniture was something that both allowed her to show great taste and enjoy a personal treasure; she'd never part with it, even if it meant paying extra for the movers to lug it up stairs. _No extra fees, my ass_, she thought wryly.

"This is about changing the future," came the voice on the other end. Standing at the payphones, calling collect, of Greenacres Rehabilitation Center, Jaime Pierce stood close by, the short cord of the wall mounted unit meant she couldn't stray far. It was short so she couldn't strangle herself she knew. The short cord was like a leash; outside contact required a tether. Compared to that, a noose would be freeing.

"You're in there, and I'm out here, with this…thing. And now you want me to start trouble again."

"Trouble's already started, CL." Aubrey frowned at the nickname Melissa had given her- _Cowardly Lyon_.

"Don't call me _that." _Aubrey growled into the receiver of her cell.

"Or what, you'll come and get me? Newsflash, I'm 'protected' from everything, even myself, in here."

"I won't take your calls anymore," Aubrey whispered. The other line went silent.

"You'd do that to me? Hell, you'd do that to _yourself_?"

"I've dealt with it."

"Because you've had me to unload off of. You couldn't even talk to Mel, but I was always here."

"You had something else to do theses past twelve years?"

"You're a cold bitch, you know that, Aubrey?" As much as she hated that nickname, being called by her first name, by _her_, hurt worse. She needed to lighten the mood and fast.

"Yes, and damn proud of it." Her risk was rewarded with a chuckle on the other line. She went forward. I'll think about it, okay, just give me some time. At the other end, Jaime nodded to herself.

"Yeah, okay." The sound of a door opening came through, and Aubrey excused herself.

"He's here, got to go, talk to you later." Jaime relented.

"Sure, no problem. Catch you later, CL," and then hung up.

Ending the conversation before he took her away from the phone, that was the only freedom she got these days.

This was a bad idea. Outside of Solemn Wood Cemetery, Jacob sat in the Chevy, waiting for Kate to signal him. After two days and deciding that neither Winchester would show, Jacob had acquiesced to Kate's demand, _this one time_, although he doubted that Kate was listening to the last part.

In order to figure out what to do, now that they had decided to do something and finding nothing (rather, they found out too much and had no understanding of where to begin or of what was actually correct, or even applicable for their situation). The best bet was to consult someone. Having some experience with the structure of colleges, Kate once again provided their cover; this time she was an undergrad looking for information regarding exorcism and funeral rites. Essentially, this Professor Cartwright advised Kate to look for the oldest source, otherwise, one ran the risk of 'modern' influences (or what passed for modern at the time, such as a printing press, or a trade post that experienced cultural diffusion.) and that generally the older the civilization, the more likely fire or cremation were involved, in order to purify the body and prevent the spirit from returning to the earthly plane.

Which were all things that Jacob could have told her, if she had given time to search through the research they had obtained, instead of insisting of an outside source. Kate had made it worse by first wondering why he would care so much after it was her idea, and then to call him _cute_ that he was _jealous_. The audacity had almost made him regret this aside, but he had to admit he was curious as to what exactly would work to dispatch a vengeful spirit. The stories he had heard left much to the imagination, after all, they were hearsay. How to solve the matter never came up, besides of course allowing the vengeful spirit to take its revenge and then dissipate. Certainly there had to be a better way. He was halfway through wondering if this was the supernatural version of infomercials_- hate waiting for a vengeful spirit to slaughter its way to peace? Then try _GhostGo,_ the one hundred per-cent guaranteed way to rid yourself of ghosts, spooks and all otherworldly entities. Limited supplies! Call now! _– when Kate's head popped up in the driver's side window, looking rather grim.

"Found him," she stated. It was about ten minutes latter that the duo found themselves in front of Ralph Greenwald's grave. A simple marker betrayed its location: Ralph Ellison Greenwald, 1969- 2012. Kate made a noise of consideration.

"Something wrong?"

"The article didn't state his full name- Ralph Ellison, that's an odd name to give to a white guy isn't it?" Jacob stared at her in bewilderment.

"We're digging up a grave, of a murderer, in order to burn his corpse, so that his disembodied spirit doesn't slaughter the people who put him away and you're worried about his _name_!"

"Ralph Ellison was a famous novelist, a-a great man," Kate explained, "I can't help but think that his parents wanted better for him, you know, that he would reach greater heights."

"Well he didn't, and now where cleaning up their mess" Kate glared.

"You don't get it, do you? What about us? Our parents? They wanted better. I'm sure mine did. And I can't believe that your mom wouldn't want the same for you."

"What happened to _changing things for the better_, huh? What now we're supposed to feel sorry for ourselves, for this psycho?"

"No! We're supposed to realize how messed up this is! How easy it is to go from one side to another- the world is _black_ and _white_ and we think it's _gray_ because we slid across it to fast, from up top to down below."

"I was never on top, or up top or whatever. Besides, he could choose, couldn't he? We-"

"And we can't" Kate said definitively. Jacob sighed, finally noting the tears in the corner of Kate's eyes were likely not because of the nonexistent wind.

"We did choose, not- Jacob gestured around himself- _this_, but we choose to make the best of it, didn't we. We're taking our chances from those who would deny us, and fuck gray, and black and white. We're two _monsters_ about to kill a _ghost_- that's, like, a freaking rainbow." Kate laughed. "So, shall we?" Jacob inquired, raising his shovels.

Kate nodded and began to dig.

Jaime sighed. Her surroundings were always the same. Same group table full of whiny crybabies, now, thankfully, empty at night, same old window surrounded by therapy art, same young girl…

Wait, what?

Kate and Jacob had readied their shovels over the simple casket. Looking around, somewhat believing his spirit would appear, than and there. "Ready?" Jacob asked. Kate nodded. The two smashed the casket quickly, the smell of formaldehyde giving way to rotting flesh all too quickly.

Jaime backed up against the wall, ready to run for the door. The open door slammed shut. The girl, looking gaunt and pale, but dirty, almost gray crept forward, a delicate smile on her face. It didn't reach her eyes.

"_You want to be my friend_?" She asked her voice with a hint of an echo, without changing her expression. The eyes… Jaime remembered them.

"A-Anna-Beth," She stammered, and that was all she could get out. The eyes widened a little, but the smile stayed thin and separated from the rest of the face, contorted in…

Rage.

"Okay what did you find? Asked Jacob, voice nasally as he pinched the bridge of his nose to avoid the hideous smell.

"Don't laugh…." Jacob stared as, from her backpack, Kate pulled out a container of salt. Non-ionized.

"Salt, huh"

"Yeah, something about preservation and purification- the fire destroys the body, and the salt cleans it, I think."

"Just toss it in, already!" Jacob felt like he was going to suffocate. _This was what his mom had to deal with_, he thought with a pang of guilt, _in order to feed us? _ Kate opened the package roughly dusting the salt back and forth over the corpse, shielding her eyes from the blowback due to the wind.

"No, please…" Anna-Beth stood over her, the rage replaced with something else- _glee._

"_Lights out_" came her voice warped like a growl, eyes wide. Her for twisted and twitched, the burial gown around moving as though alive.

_Ironic_ was the last thought on her mind, just after she wished for _her_ Cowardly Lyon. Blood splattered the wall after ghostly fingers sliced through flesh.

Kate tossed in a match, trying to avoid doing so with a bit of a flourish. The fire quickly consumed the corpse, coffin interior and wood exterior. The fire lapped at the sides of, but never escaped the grave.

"I-I don't understand." The rookie looked devastated. Detective Clarkson placed a hand on her shoulder, but then decided to remove it after taking another look at the body.

"No one does" It wasn't meant to be comforting.

"Same signature, too" The coroner commented. Detective Clarkson looked at the rookie.

"Don't suppose there's anything else you could divine for us, is there?" He was only half-joking. If there was anything that could help in this case, he would take it. The rookie stared at him.

"Actually, what about connections?"

"Between the victims?"

"Yes." Clarkson pulled out a manila folder from a brief case, and handed it over. Glancing it over, she could see nothing that even remotely linked the victims, besides living in Buffalo. The detective confirmed this.

"Not a damn thing, is there." Clarkson commented ruefully. The rookie seemed to think for a moment, then asked a question.

"Would anything not be in here? Like juvie stuff?

"No, not likely, we pulled pretty much everything…" Clarkson started. "Well there is something." Pulling out a cell, and hitting the button for his contact at the prescient, Clarkson gave a few gruff commands, asking to pull a few files on both Rose and Pierce, and too call back with, if any, news.

Ten minutes later Clarkson's cell chimed.

It had taken Jacob an hour to get Kate off of the floor in the fetal position she had taken up after news of the murder had reached the airwaves. Sobbing heavily, she wouldn't move or eat or speak. The hotel they had decided to stay at, and obviously prematurely celebrate the end of a reign of terror was nice enough, but Jacob doubted that the floor was the best spot to be on for any extended period of time, given his experience in temporary living quarters.

He finally managed to coax her into revisiting her seeming friend, Detective Greg Clarkson, and the crime scene at Greenacres Rehabilitation Center. Convincing her that this way, she could help instead of just mope, he sent her on her way in, while he looked into any discrepancies with Kate's finding of salt as a purifier, and then burning the body. Did they need to do something different? Not that it mattered as the body was long gone, but again, Jacob's curiosity got the better of him. After an hour of searching, Jacob could conclude only one thing: They had burned the wrong body.

As far as he could see, the ritual of cremation to release a spirit would not be invalidated by anything extra they did, but seemed to rely on two steps: 1) salt; 2) burn.

Simple. And yet… Jacob looked toward the center and wondered how Kate was holding up, purely for the reason that he didn't need either a crying werewolf or a blown cover on his hands, he convinced himself.

Inside, Kate, the rookie, listened intently as Detective Clarkson explained the situation.

"As it turns out, there is something we didn't see before. Seems they were all material witnesses in a homicide back in 2000. Problem is, the doer has an awfully good alibi he's been in prison since, and he died about a month ago. Pretty sure the department doesn't believe in ghosts."

He didn't notice the rookie flinch. "Well, what about co-conspirators?" She asked. Clarkson shook his head.

"The doer, Greenwald, worked alone. Son of a bitch didn't have any friends, even other scumbags." Kate relaxed- at least she hadn't been wrong about the supernatural element, at least, not likely. "Looks like we're talking to the third witness, Aubrey Lyons." They began to leave, when the detective turned back to Kate, "You coming, kid?" The rookie blinked, and then rushed to join them.

To say Jacob panicked when he saw Kate ushered into a squad car would be an understatement. It was only as his cell rang, that he managed to get a hold of himself. The caller I.D. read 'Kate' and Jacob sighed in relief. Answering it, he said in a hushed but gruff whisper, "What the hell is going?"

"Hey, sweetie." There was silence on the other end, so Kate continued, glancing at Clarkson. "Listen, I'm not going to be able to make lunch on my break, okay?" Jacob caught on.

"Where are you headed?"

"We'll discuss that later, babe"

"You're in the car with a cop, right?"

"You got it." Jacob paused, then,

"You're going to talk to one of the witnesses?"

"That's right; my shift will be over soon, love you, bye." Kate turned to Clarkson, and gestured with the cell. "Boyfriend. He gets worried if I don't check in, dangerous job and all." Clarkson nodded accommodatingly.

"Good man. He's lucky to have you."

Kate grinned.

While Kate went to play cops, and after his blush receded from being told 'love you', Jacob decided to check out the crime scene- the one from twelve years ago.

The Plaza Cineplex had seen better days. Apparently, after asking some locals under the guise of doing a school report, the theater had enjoyed some increase in customer traffic after the murder, people curious, and all. However, the grisly attraction soon faded in the public mind, and the decreased sales meant new add-ons were underutilized and couldn't be paid for. The place was rundown, but still open. Glancing across the street, Jacob saw the alleyway where the murder was committed.

Walking through it, he saw only a dumpster, a few weeds and… his foot hooked on something making him stumble. Looking down, Jacob saw a small metal protrusion coming up from the concrete. Rest spots indicated that whatever was here was rectangular at its base. What could have been here in 2000 but wouldn't be here in 2012? It wasn't that long ago, so it couldn't be anything major. In fact the only real changes anywhere in twelve years would be digital replacements.

Jacob blinked. A _payphone_ would no longer be here. But would that matter. It took a moment before he realized what was bugging him. Spirits are generally attached to the places in which they died. So how was Greenwald bouncing around like a freaking ball? Of course now it seemed unlikely that Greenwald was their guy… or ghost, for that matter. There was only one other deceased individual who would have motive: Anna-Beth Morales.

Detective Clarkson knocked on the door. A man answered, with short black hair and a frown. "Can I help you, officers?"

"We need to speak to Ms. Lyons, if you don't mind." The man's frown deepened.

"I don't think that would be such a good idea."

"With all due respect, sir, I would rather have Ms. Lyons decide that." A woman appeared in the doorway.

"Mark its fine, really." Mark glanced at her and nodding, stepped aside so that they could come in.

Once everybody was seated, Detective Clarkson began.

"Ms. Lyons-

"Aubrey, please" she said. Kate noticed she didn't much like to be called by her last name.

"Aubrey, as you know, we're investigating the deaths of Melissa Rose and Jaime Pierce, and we'd like to ask you a few questions, because we believe you may know something, even if you don't realize it. For your protection, we'll be setting up a guard out side your home, okay?" Aubrey nodded "Do you remember anything about the night of august sixth, 2000? Any small detail could help."

"Not much more than what is in the statement I gave to the police."

"Well, do you think you could take us through that night?" Again, Aubrey nodded. "Good."

"Well, myself, Melissa and Jaime had decided to go to the movies and take Anna-Beth along. We got separated from Anna-Beth, and when we went looking for her we saw the police everywhere. And found out what happened."

"How did you get separated?" Aubrey paused, and then coughed. Turning to Mark, she asked,

"Would you get me some tea?" After a pause himself, Mark nodded and went to get the beverage. She leaned forward conspiratorially. "Look, what I say can never reach his ears," she gestured towards the kitchenette where Mark bustled around. Clarkson nodded in agreement. "I wasn't really paying attention that night. I-I was _preoccupied_ with Jaime." Clarkson raised an eyebrow but said nothing. "Melissa was sort of the leader of our group of bitchy teenage girls- she invited Anna-Beth as a prank, get separated and ditch her." Aubrey swallowed. "We never intended for anything to happen, not like that."

"You never told the police."

"We were afraid- we thought we would get in trouble. Hell, the only reason we came outside is because we felt bad, and decided that we should just pretend we had gotten cut off, but by then…"

"It was too late." Clarkson finished. Aubrey nodded. Mark returned with the tea. Detective Clarkson asked a few more questions, but they were clearly so Mark wouldn't get suspicious that the conversation had entered as soon as he had come in to the room.

Leaving the apartment, Clarkson turned to Kate. "What do you think?"

Kate quickly thought up a way to respond. "Maybe a relative- someone who thinks the girls deserve to get the same that Anna-Beth did?" Clarkson nodded.

"Alright. I'll go run down leads. You should get some rest. You look exhausted.

_You have no idea_, Kate thought.

Upon meeting up in the hotel room, both Kate and Jacob acknowledged knowing who the 'real' spirit was. However, there as still another matter. "Basically, she said that Anna-Beth's body is in Mexico- her parents buried her in her birth country, and went abroad. No one's heard from them since."

"And the matter of how a damn spirit manages to come all the way from Mexico after twelve years..."

"Why? Planes too expensive for ghosts nowadays?" Kate responded sarcastically. Jacob glared.

"What the hell's up you ass?" Kate's returned gaze relented, and she placed her head in her hands.

"I'm just frustrated."

"Well, this may work in our favor."

"How?"

"When Anna-Beth was killed, there was a payphone in the alley. It's gone now, but if it was there at the time of the death…" Kate stared, not comprehending the significance. "Look, sometimes ghosts- spirits they can become trapped. Like energy, or feedback in a sound system. If we can get phone records for that night, maybe we can find out if Anna-Beth went all 'ghost in the machine'"

"How would that prove anything?"

"Only phone activity at the time would be her- who else could use a phone from a crime scene?"

"And she decided to start killing now because…."  
"Because after Greenwald died, everyone thought that the only bad guy got what he deserved."

"So, this is Anna-Beth's way of making known the other guilty parties?"

"Exactly" Jacob, looking like he had done a great task, sat down with a great flourish.

"Easy, Sherlock," Kate chided. Her good humor was beginning to return. But still she wanted one more thing. "Admit it."

"What?" Jacob asked, genuinely perplexed.

"Admit that you enjoyed working this case. That you enjoy saving at least one person. That you _will_ enjoy working other cases and saving other people." Jacob eyed her, and then remembered something.

"Speaking of, who's guarding our dear Aubrey, anyway?"

"She has a guard posted at her door," Kate responded, realizing a second later how stupid that was given the circumstances.

"Right. Well as much faith as I have in the Buffalo PD, perhaps a vengeful spirit might be a bit out of their field?" he said, sarcasm practically radiating off him.

"Just shut your mouth and get in car." Kate answered, bemused.

Kate got her revenge when they arrived, but was none too happy about it.

"Where's the guard?" Jacob had asked. Kate stared, if only a moment, at him in incredulity, and ran towards the apartment door, Jacob quick in tow. Adrenaline coursing, Kate felt her wolf side take over and slammed through the door.

And was promptly thrown like a rag doll by an unseen force. Jacob ducked down. He needed iron; at least all the stories he ever heard made that clear- iron wards off ghosts. Like a decorative candle holder.

Grabbing the candlestick, he managed to hurl it through the incorporeal form of Anna-Beth Gonzalez, causing her to falter and flicker out of sight, and Aubrey Lyon to let out another terrified shriek.

Kate had managed to return to the room, rubbing her neck. Turning to her in a panicked state, he said quickly, "We don't have time; she'll be back any minute!" Kate turned to Aubrey, who seemed to recognize her, if faintly.

"Come with me if you want live!" Her hand outstretched as she did so.

Aubrey decided these sort of strangers were better than a murderous ghost and so leapt to her feet and the two raced out of the door. "Where's your boyfriend, or the guard?" Kate asked.

"Mark left- he didn't want to but I convinced him- and the guard he- he heard me scream- and-and that thing she-_it_- cut his throat open…"

"Jacob, what now?"

"There has to be something, a way she's manifesting- a piece of clothing or hair or…"

"Her voice?" Jacob and Kate turned to look at her.

"We can talk in the car, come on!" Jacob pulled both women toward the Monte. He saw Anna-Beth just a few feet in front of them. "Damn it!"

Street lights flickered, and the Monte's radio came to life. Through the static clear, distorted, but plain as day:

"_Don't interfere"_

Jacob ignored the command and swung a shovel through her, causing her to dissipate.

Jumping in the car, he started it, and slammed on the accelerator. Now in the, supposed, safety of the car, Kate turned to Aubrey in the back seat.

"What did you mean her voice?" Aubrey sighed.

"When we got to Melissa place, that night, there was a message on the answering machine. We thought it was the cops or someone calling for an update, or something, but instead…"

"_We can never tell anybody what happened," said Melissa. Jaime gripped Aubrey's hand a little tighter and glared at Melissa._

"_This was all your stupid idea. Besides we did nothing wrong; we even came out to look for her, remember?"_

"_You know nothing. If we're found out, we'll look like monsters. Even if nothing legal happens, they'll call us delinquents and dump us in some detention facility. And you know _what_ happens there…" She glanced down at their clasped hands. "Although you would probably _like_ that, huh?"_

"_Fuck off, Rose" Melissa rolled her eyes. _

"_It's a joke, relax. But this isn't- we keep silent, or else our futures are gone." Jaime had to admit, Melissa was exaggerating, but the media did enjoy a villain, and who more perfect then three bratty teenagers? Especially if the killer wasn't caught. She didn't want to be questioned or have to turn against her friends, especially Aubrey. _

"_Fine." Melissa grinned, a childlike smile of relief. For a second, Aubrey remembered why she was friends with her._

"_Let me just check this message…" Melissa frowned and hit the play button._

Aubrey stopped. "What was the message, Aubrey?" Kate asked gently, suppressing her own alarm and fear.

"Shit!" Their eyes snapped to the road before them. Where Anna-Beth stood. Instead of breaking however, he charged the car forward.

"What the hell are you doing?!" Kate screamed. Jacob grinned back at her.

"You know the best thing about old cars, Kate? The axels are made of _iron_!" The car passed through Anna-Beth, causing her to flicker and disappear. Kate turned to the now cowering Aubrey.

"You have to tell us what was on the message" said Kate a little more urgently.

_An ungodly howl erupted from the machine. Melissa jumped back. Aubrey grabbed on to Jaime, who returned the panicked embrace. A distorted echoing voice blasted out, _

"_Yo no muerte. Please" The voice broke off into a distorted scream and the lights went out._

"What did you do with the machine?"

"Buried it. Her parents came home after and we said broke, but they never asked, because of the murder and everything else…" Tears slid freely down her cheeks.

"At Melissa's?

"Yes." Aubrey whispered.

"Jacob…"

"That place is swarming with cops…"

"I know, but we have to, to come this far and not finish it.

Aubrey spoke up "I need this to end." Jacob glanced at them in rearview mirror.

"Where?"

Detective Clarkson was glad to see a Monte Carlo pull around the block. Classic cars were rare and few and he deeply enjoyed the chance he got to see one, even as beat up as this one was. His joy turned to mild surprise when he saw the rookie, out of uniform, get out and it deepened when he saw a young boy out of the driver's side and an endangered civilian come out of the back.

"What the hell?" He turned to his lieutenant. "Check if Wexler is responding at his post." Clarkson rushed up to the trio.

"What's the meaning of this, kid?" It only occurred to Kate that the nickname was only because Clarkson most likely, could never remember a name. She opened her mouth to speak.

Depending on one's outlook, either optimistic or pessimistic, what happened next would be good or bad.

It was bad that Anna-Beth appeared in the middle of a lawn, in front of people who had no idea how to react. Kate however, took this as an opportunity to avoid explaining what she couldn't, especially when Anna-Beth telekinetically threw a cop into a squad car.

"Aubrey, where is it buried?" Aubrey wordlessly pointed to a place on the lawn. Kate didn't need further explanation.

The spot was devoid of all grass.

Jacob swung a shovel through Anna-Beth, who disappeared.

And reappeared in back of him. Despite himself, Jacob screamed as he sailed through the air, and then landed hard. The world tilted and swayed, and Jacob tried desperately to get his bearings.

Despite the chaos, it occurred to Kate that digging like she was, with clawed, bare hands, she never looked more like a dog in her life. Pushing that thought aside, she hit pay dirt- a lockbox, smaller than Jacob's. Kate smashed the metal box to the ground, with such force that it immediately opened revealing its contents.

Despite no power source, the damn thing was still blinking. Kate smashed the machine with her fist. Pulling out what was left of the can of salt, she dumped the remnants on the device. It was still blinking, and pulled out some matches.

Then she was flung through the air. The impact was hard, but she supposed werewolves aren't as affected by physical force as a regular human was, because she could get up quickly.

However, she was slammed down again, Anna-Beth above her.

"_THEY. MUST. DIE." _Anna-Beth roared and grabbed her by the throat and squeezed. Kate felt herself losing consciousness.

Ghost or no ghost, Clarkson was a detective. And that sounded a hell of a lot like a confession to him. He noticed the boy trying to stand and the shovel lying near him, where he had dropped it. He grabbed it and rushed toward Anna-Beth and swung through her just like he saw the boy do. Again, she disappeared. Again she reappeared and forced Detective Clarkson to the ground, hard enough to make his vision dim.

However, Kate managed to cal to where Aubrey was crouching trying to avoid the ghost's wrath. "Aubrey, the matches…" Aubrey stated at the match book lying near the still blinking answering machine. She saw Anna-Beth begin to choke Kate again. She remembered Jaime telling her how a _'cold bitch'_ like herself was never afraid of anything, least of all a haunted answering machine, and even if she was, she would always be with her. That freak took that away from her. They were just kids. It was an accident. Melissa didn't deserve to die. Jaime surely didn't. And neither did she.

She grabbed the matches. She lit them. "Hey Anna-Beth!" The ghost rotated toward her.

"_GROW UP!"_ Aubrey dropped the lit matches on the answering machine. Anna-Beth roared again, inhumanely, and rushed toward her.

Then the ghost began to burn. Looking down, Aubrey saw the plastic of the machine wither and twist. Anna-Beth screamed once more, before the flames engulfed her and dissipated, for the final time.

"You're not a cop, are you?" Clarkson had an icepack on his head, and stared at Kate, who sat in the back of an ambulance. Despite insisting she was fine, Clarkson was adamant, even though the cut on her head had healed, and the wooziness she felt had dissipated.

"No, sir" She said quietly. "Um, sir?" Clarkson quirked his eyebrow, but remained silent. "How are you going to… explain all this?" Clarkson chuckled.

"Well the way I see it, I have two options. I can tell the truth and get myself an early retirement on the grounds of mental issues, or can lie and make up some bull about an electrical outage and a busted gas line catching fire. I _have_ always wanted to go on a road trip in an RV." Kate grinned. He became serious again. "Listen, Kid… There are people looking for you… and I'm guessing you don't want to be found… but just so you know, they care. Kate nodded. "I'll just turn my back on this ambulance and if you happened to leave well, that's just my own bad luck, huh?"

Kate hopped of the ambulance dock. "Thank you"

"You have my card. If you need help… call" He turned around, waited a few minutes and looked back.

Kate was gone.

"You'll be okay?" Jacob asked Aubrey, now with a blanket around her.

"Yeah, Mark's flying back in, so he'll help me deal…, with Jaime and Melissa's funeral and all."

"I'm sorry about your friends." Jacob was old enough to understand that Jaime was likely more than a friend, but he was also old enough to know when to keep quiet.

"It's been awhile. I just wish I had spent more time with them." Jaime was slightly more weighted in her mind than Melissa. Jacob nodded.

"Don't we all," he said so she couldn't hear him. He resisted the urge to think about his mother. Kate waved to him from afar. It was time to go. "Take care," he said and patted Aubrey's hand.

"Thanks, you guy's too."

Jacob slipped away, and the two slipped into the Monte, red break lights eventually fading into the distance.

A/N: Damn, that chapter was long. Next one coming soon, and will be entitled 'Jesus of Suburbia' and yes, it's a reference to the song of the same name by Green Day. Till then~ LoungeLizard 


	9. Jesus of Surburbia (part 1)

Red eyes like neon, but somehow darker, as though backlit with purple, blinked through, before sheathed behind brown eyes muddled with rage. A low grown alerted their owner as to the human beside him, the female collecting her bearings, and beginning to rise.

Despite himself, it had been quite awhile since he had a challenge like this, besides the occasional angel, and all too often they were easy to manipulate or eager to jumpstart some apocalypse or another. Good for his natural instinctive destructive impulse; bad for business. The cambion had been his ticket to both adventure and a way to hold on to his shaky grasp of power.

Apparently, hell wasn't as homogenous as it once was. Whereas the near apocalypse end of the world extravaganza had barely registered in the mortal coil, the more … sensitive places were in revolt. Especially after learning of the God tablets, capital 'G'. Few among his kind believed Crowely up to the task of retrieving the tablets, and after Abbadon popped up, well, he looked rather emasculated compared to rising powers and greater, more ancient demons than himself.

Seniority is everything in hell, as it is in every bureaucracy. The older the demon, even a black eyes, the more respect it commanded; double, if it possessed powers beyond the natural capabilities of the foot soldiers of hell; the populous love a hero, something to aspire to besides the elitist upper ranks.

And despite being human only very recently, in terms of demon understanding, his rank as crossroads demon and business savvy made him a target of the masses for ridicule. _Lucky the Leprechaun, indeed_. He wasn't even Irish!

Now, his elusive prey was his. Jesse eyed him warily, and then surprisingly, _smiled._

"Something funny, Sonny Jim?" Crowely growled.

"Well, _Fergus_, and at the mention of his 'real' name, Crowely's host's eyes widened, he felt violated, I think you best be leaving."

"Care to give me a clue as to why I give a rat's arse what you think?" Crowely deadpanned.

"Those angels were banished at least, five minutes ago. How long before they get it together and come back here?" The little bastard was right. With Jesse exhausted, the angels might see it fit to take him as well, so long as they were there. Even returning empty handed was better than becoming some celestial's bitch. At least, heaven's helpers wouldn't leave the half spawn intact. Now it was Crowely's turn to smile.

"Enjoy you're evisceration. It's been… interesting. Ciao." And Crowely was gone. Jesse's smile faded- the angels would be here any minute-

Jesse was slammed up against the lockers, Krissy grasping his neck tightly but, not putting pressure on his trachea. She actually wanted him to talk. Go figure.

"What. _Happened_?"

_Ten hours earlier…_

"So, do you want to come over?" Jesse had been lost in his thoughts, as well as scanning the street for a potential attack.

"Where?" Krissy, or Kris, as she described herself, rolled her eyes playfully.

"My house, of course" It physically hurt her to have to act like a lovesick moron, but she really didn't have an in otherwise. She half expected him to see right through her and kill her on the spot when she talked to him three weeks ago.

After introductions, She found that he called himself Jesse, last name Fischer, and that his parents were on business in Australia for the past three years, and they had just returned to the states. They had left when he was eleven, turning twelve, so he didn't have an accent, and was in accelerated classes their, and so took similar courses here.

Krissy's own extra-curricular activities had provided her with an impressive aptitude of her own, and so the two shared many classes together. This worked to Krissy's advantage; it seemed more innocuous when she approached him.

Her reasoning was based on the freak weather patterns that had occurred shortly before the new 'student' had arrived. Storms drought and other electrical disturbances: every clock in the school had to be reset after stopping at the same time, nine fifteen, in the night, and reports of 'power surges' causing flickering lights and brownouts, or at times, even small, localized blackouts.

Of course, half of all supernatural creatures cause these sorts of phenomena. _And_ that was what was left _after_ excluding ghosts, those creatures that prefer darkness, and those that may make their homes in places damaging to power cables and generators. So, Krissy spent a fortnight sorting out what exactly this boy was. The process went smoothly enough, except in places where Krissy had to provide details because the passages were cut off, or because of a contradiction. Essentially, she could eliminate ghosts because the power outages were too widespread, and nobody noted any EVP, at least not in any correlation to the power fluctuations. Most other creatures would leave behind a trail of bodies, and so this had to be a smarter, or at least specialized entity. That allowed Krissy to cut off many possibilities, but many of those possibilities were familiar to her, or would have resulted in easier hunting. Not that Krissy would want that. But still, given that even after all the eliminations, she was still left with a huge number of options, it really wasn't that helpful.

Krissy responded by developing a number of entities that could pose as a human, but still generated large quantities of power strong enough to knock out electricity. Again, she was forced to narrow her options. Everyday after school, she would search a list of journals, magazines, religious texts, on a variety of topics, from mass hysteria, to chaos magick, to psychological phenomena explaining supernatural events (sometimes these led to actual supernatural events; thoughts were powerful things) and politics (it occurred to her that some of the wheeling and dealing and corruption might have a supernatural source, but as of yet no luck. Hell, half of the things she read about were the dismissal of niceties considered tantamount to politics. That seemed counterintuitive to her, but whatever) and biology, cognition, pretty much anything.

The problem was with such a wide range of possibilities, Krissy found herself distracted; every hypothesis led to a solution of another case: alternative intelligences due to psychic networks? Explains why that hunter in California can't find a body to salt and burn for the deaths of concert pianists; the piano itself has become a psychic influence too low to respond to an EMF meter, and only truly present when others were playing; ultra-terrestrial entities? Explains the presence of fairies involved in deaths in New Jersey adoptive families who are cruel to their step children; thought generated entities from massive psychic influence? Explains the odd, inhuman servants of a club owner in the Upper East Side in Manhattan created from the psychic energies of people gathered there.

That last one had led to the collapse of a major network of such clubs and the hunters involved had been so grateful to her that they sent her a bottle of schnapps' that they noted had some 'very psychedelic properties man' (what happens when hippies become hunters after encountering vamps in the mid sixties). Krissy had explained the liquor as a late housewarming gift, attributed to the mass amount of marijuana smoked by the senders who had bad memories. Her disinterest saved her. This promptly led to, after a small amount, her father rocking out to Jimmi Hendrix in the garage and the neighbors filling a noise complaint. Risking a small sip herself when Lee wasn't looking, she found the taste abhorrent, and at night the dreams she had disturbing; not upsetting, but disturbing enough to jar her awake more than once.

Exhausted and lacking anything to show for it, Krissy was left with nothing more to do than tack back to her original guesses, fanciful ideas about angels and maybe even the Antichrist- known in most texts as 'cambion.'

She could have punched herself, she really could have.

Odd disturbances with no purpose or geographical limit besides diminishing influence, check. Unusual and sporadic weather patterns, check. Seemingly irrelevant phenomena otherwise unexplainable, double check.

_Son of a bitch… literally._

She was dealing with a cambion. Now the rub was, how to kill one. From what she had read, there wasn't much to there defenses, other than that creepy Bill Mumy vibe: reality manipulation, teleportation, overall god like powers, but with out the lack of boundaries that came with omnipotence, and none of the omniscience, aside from a general wariness and predictive powers that came with their abilities.

Aside from research, Krissy had been working on getting closer to her target. After all this would require finesse. She could try just running up like an idiot and trying to kill a reality warping, incredibly powerful spawn of hell, but who on earth could be that stupid?

So, devising a better way, Krissy presented herself as a curious (and rather aggressive) potential friend. Jesse didn't seem to be having that great a time making friends anyway, and so he was receptive to her as a companion.

In actuality, Jesse was nervous as-no pun intended- _hell_, and so tried to shake off Krissy as best he could. Trying to keep her at bay though, was easier said than done. Kris managed to tail him every time any where. It was slightly unnerving, but, Jesse was becoming used to it, almost relying on her presence as a constant in a strange and lonely place.

That is, reality. Jesse's abilities meant that, for him, the constants in life were not… constant. That generally left him to rely on people, as powerful as he was; his abilities for the time being were limited to a seven mile radius, and beyond that the world continued. If he focused he could 'suck in' that radius to as little as four miles, with a few outliers. But still, people were the one thing that kept him from fearing that everything was just a figment of his imagination, and could end in an instant. His powers required concentration; those people elsewhere operate of their own accord, reacting to his influence, not obeying it.

A small piece of that, Jesse had found in Kris. So her invitation, a step closer to see everything wasn't just painted on, was not something he could take lightly. Even if everything seemed fine, he still had to deal with his inability to relax in her company.

"Well, I suppose…." Krissy grinned from ear to ear.

"Great! I'll see you at seven, kay?" Jesse nodded. Kris glanced at her cell, and frowned.

"I've got to go. Dad expects me home around four, so… Jesse again, nodded. Krissy left with a wave, and Jesse found himself, once again, searching for any trace of demonic possession.

Krissy had been lucky enough not to be put into a situation in which her act would require any…. further convincing. Jesse seemed content to talk, and the other students essentially assumed that Jesse was shy and Krissy was gay. Apparently, this was based on the fact that she was shorter than average ('stubby' was the way she heard one individual put it- she made sure to 'accidentally' trip him face first to the floor) and had a penchant for flannel. So be it. This worked in her favor; no one asked why she hung around Jesse without any PDA and no one approached Jesse for fear of incurring Krissy wrath.

A little sleuthing had told her that Jesse, in actuality resided at a nearby hotel, and as far as she could tell, had no parents, demonic or otherwise. She didn't know what to expect; never before had a target lived amongst people without making a move- of course given the fact he was a cambion, his plans likely wouldn't be as obvious as a Wendigo, or Vetala.

Her plan was simple: lure Jesse to her house, finish him with a stab to the base of the neck and burn the body. Anything could go wrong, of course, but that was the point of keeping things simple: eliminate unnecessary complexity, and stick to basics. Her father would be out for the evening, working a late shift as a tow truck driver. Apparently with cars being repaired and replaced less, business was good, and that meant late nights. Never as late as when Lee would be tracking something, though. Now, Krissy was alone most of the time, but didn't have to spend that time worrying.

That was her biggest concern: that her father would get back in the life. It was also the reason she kept her hunting secret; she new if she made clear that hunting were something she wanted to pursue, Lee would allow her. He was overprotective, but if there is one thing that hunting teaches an individual, whether because of some tragic tale that led to a vengeful spirit or a hunter who did everything right, and yet still died, it's that nothing is certain. All that pain taken to ensure a family member is safe just isolates them; loved ones can't be sealed away. Realizing that people act of their own accord was something that hunters had to face, and one either gave up the hope of a life forever, or accepted that someday, they wouldn't be around to keep those they loved safe. Most kids whose parents are hunters are aware of it; otherwise they would be in danger.

Krissy knew about hunting since she was ten, old enough to go hunting-the regular kind- and hold a gun. Ironically, it is easier to explain what daddy did as work for Lee than most fathers; most kids think their parents keep away evil things, Krissy's actually did. Plus, Krissy was smart for age, and with her mother gone, it was hard for Lee to cover up his activities and maintain a strong relationship with his daughter. So, he chose the lesser of two evils and allowed her to enter his world. Thankfully, his quarry were mostly one shots that ended quickly, no demons or nests of vampires, mostly the things that preyed on people who had no choice but to walk the night.

Krissy thought those creatures were cowards: they lashed out only when cornered, like animals. Her quarry, however, seemed the antithesis of most of those creatures, calm studious and otherwise unnoticeable. She could understand where all those depictions of the antichrist in the Omen films came from, Jesse even looked like that little boy, all grown up.

Jesse returned to his abode (as he referred to it, to himself) which was definitely not humble. It wasn't like he needed a fancy room, but the larger rooms allowed privacy, and being inconspicuous was bought through use of his powers to cast a few illusions, although not as many as in Australia. An illusionary father here, an ersatz entity here for a mother, as needed, which wasn't often- hotel staff do not care to be babysitters, especially for a fifteen year old. Having to create characters like this was exhausting, both mentally and physically. Jesse was always grateful to excuse his parent's absence as a business trip or extended charity drive. Besides the effort to forge someone convincingly human, even, there was the need to detail little elements that were convincingly evident of _humanity_, like a stride, or particular way of speaking. Jesse found it odd that the things that made people most assuredly human were not originality or differences, but repetition and similar callings. This revelation only helped to make him more alone, as he could see the various systems and patterns people followed throughout the day so easily, that it looked like pieces of a puzzle, and not a particularly interesting one. The monotone had been so much that he accepted Kris's proposition without much haste.

At his door, Jesse found several newspapers, delivered at his earlier request. Inside, he began to go through them, from the _Daily News_, to the _Wall Street Journal_, looking for anything that might seem out of place. As to what he was looking for, Jesse concentrated his search for unusual activities, and then researched the political and cultural climates of the surrounding area, trying to see if any connections could be made. So far he had isolated what seemed to be a demon attack in New Jersey, and some sort of coordinated situation in California, but outside of state sized bounders, he didn't have a specific idea of how these supposed assaults were taking place. A search of the web allowed him only access to past occurrences; it is surprising how much of the information contained on the World Wide Web is rather old, only more so as the world sped up.

Deciding that there wasn't much else he could do right now he sought to get ready for his….what, exactly? Jesse couldn't tell if Kris was a friend, or girlfriend, or perhaps stalker. He knew relationships were nebulous (it was only at thirteen he finally understood the jokes about the _"It's Complicated"_ relationship status option on FaceBook) but, this was excessive. And inviting someone to your home, without parents, that was a pretty clear sign. Of course he spent his youth believing itching powder could make a person scratch through bone and that joy buzzers were electrical, inadvertently killing several people; it would behoove him to do his due diligence, and not jump to conclusions. After all, if he managed to avoid demons and angels, surely he could take a moment to parse through the affections of a teenage girl.

Jesse made a sour face. That was a place he did not want to go. So, it was best to allow things to occur naturally, and let her make the first move. Again, he made a sour face. _Moves_? Jesse preferred Kris's companionship in a friend capacity, and he meant that in the best way possible; and friendship was something he needed.

Being a child with near god-like powers was terrifying; everything you believe becomes reality, and children have very messed up beliefs, or at least he did. Being a teenager with god like powers was less freighting, but more burdensome. Without the excuse of innocence, controlling these abilities became a daily chore, although with more certainty of one's reality.

Choosing a conservative look: suit jacket, dress shirt, no tie, and slacks, Jesse deemed himself _dapper_. In his mind, _dapper_ was the highest esteem one could give another in terms of looks- clean cut, yet making it look good. While he no longer held the myths of his youth, he didn't indulge every supposedly bad thing children should avoid, such as sloppiness.

After a shower and a bit of cologne, now fully dressed, Jesse decided to leave for the apartment where Kris resides. He paused; however, a slight chill passing through his spine, he looked around. The paper devil's trap over his door was still intact, as were the ones tapped to his windows- he had learned a few things when exorcising his demon 'father' from his mother, which appeared in flashes of intuitive knowledge, the heptagram and scorpion easy to draw as though he had done it all his life- and undisturbed. Seeing nothing, he shrugged it off, and Jesse continued on his way, down into the lobby. Seeing nothing but a man in a suit purveying the _Financial Times, _hewent out the door.

Crowely glanced at the departed boy, a knowing look on his face.

At her place, Krissy began the preparations for her 'date night.' It passed her mind that she was putting as much preparation into this as would a girl on a real date, and, accompanied by a wave of guilt, realized how many, her father included, did not want this for her.

Shaking it off, Krissy instead focused on what she would need to do. Keeping hunting techniques from a hunter is hard to do, even if the creature is one few have seen, and especially hard to do when concerning an experienced hunter like Lee. Her actions were limited because of this, so she had to keep her steps even simpler then she would have like to. As all she would need was one decent kill shot, any bladed weapon would do, even an improvised one, like a steak knife. When it came to hunting, theatrics like a dagger or machete would just lead to trouble with the authorities and alerting others to your presence, which was not a good thing. Simple weapons when able to be used, should. As she did the cooking, tucking a small knife in her sleeve was easy (the one she had used when grabbed by the Vetala was in a lockbox in her father's room, there since they quit hunting, and she didn't think she could get it without raising her father's suspicions.) She had heard of devil's traps and the like, but nothing that suggested that they worked on a half-breed like a cambion.

Krissy frowned, the phrase _half-breed_ sour in her mind, the term made her feel… cruel. Haunting was supposed to be about fighting evils and protecting people, not merely killing. While she had no sympathy for the majority of supernatural creatures, she wasn't rabid about it. In this case, it was a preemptive strike; the half demon child would surely cause trouble, he may have started already. While she wasn't a fanatic, when it came to demon, what she had heard from other hunters told her that hesitancy only led to death and destruction; it had to be done.

She was not having second thoughts. Killing bloodthirsty vamps was one thing; they made it sport to hunt humans, and hunters returned the favor. This, however, took her into a gray area of morality: while the action was justified, the intent was not. She had to consider that though she may think clearly now, somewhere down the line she may lose herself, if she didn't correct her course. Things were set into motion, there was no turning back.

Krissy merely hoped that tonight she wouldn't find out more about herself then intended.

Jessie arrived on schedule, fortunately for Krissy, not earlier, as her Lee had left for work at six, due to some complications, on which he didn't explain. Quickly making use of the little time she had left, she gathered some rock salt (still needed for snow) a few hidden hex bags (kept for safety reasons; even when fully cooperative, leaving this life is harder than it would seem) and made sure that knife was still secure, and slipping it out wouldn't be a pain, alerting the cambion to her intent. Satisfied that what she could do, she had done, and that it might be effective, she waited out the final fifteen minutes until his arrival.

Jesse had never been over to someone's house before, even in a play date capacity. Apparently, his step parents hadn't thought him mature enough to go on the few he had been invited to, and when you're a demon spawn on the run, one is a bit too mature for such activities, a paradox that Jesse resented. Much of his predicament revolved around maturity; too much or too little. Not grown up enough to see the world, needing to be grown up enough because at heart he wasn't really, to deal with this, he doubted anyone was.

Now standing at the door of the address Kris had given him, he considered leaving, and telling her tomorrow that something had come up, that his phone was broke. But if he wanted to bitch about his predicament, he couldn't very well turn down a friend because things got messy. Well he could, but that would make him a hypocrite; being lied to for a great deal of his life, about his parentage, the world in general, and having the consequences of those lies blow up in his face, in the form of a blade wielding angel. Had 'Castiel' been more competent, he wouldn't be here, and he (aware of the irony) thanked God for that.

Knocking on the door, he took a deep breath, waiting for the minute and a half stretch between his knock and Kris answering.

"_Sup_" he said when she came to the door and honestly, he had no idea why. Shutting his eyes briefly for the sheer awkwardness of the moment, he opened them when he heard her giggle.

Krissy for her part, was genuine in her laughter. She thought it had something to do with the antichrist using slang, and on follow up, that it might be a scene from a sequel of _Jesus Christ Superstar_, at that point she struggled to keep from guffawing.

"Come in" she invited, still chuckling a little. Jesse entered, and his first impression was that the living space was a bit bare. Not exceptionally so, but it looked like a television show set on a low grade network, perfectly nice, but not lived in.

_Like his own room_, he thought, and wasn't sure if he meant back at the hotel, or the one from his childhood.

Krissy took the opportunity as Jesse took in his surroundings to ask if he preferred any music, to which he casually asked for whatever was on the radio.

Sifting through a few songs on the local FM stations, avoiding her personal choices-for no reason, it wasn't like he could discern anything from them, or would know a favorite song from one she had just selected- and, after avoiding the Divinyals _I Touch Myself_, blushing furiously, settled on some light pop song, of which the title she couldn't discern.

Despite the fact she had a very god idea of what was supposed to happen, Krissy found herself unable to reach that point. After all, there was a major disconnect between the killing and the lulling into a false confidence, and Krissy found, annoyed with herself, that her plan had become redundant.

She was scared. Or something. Something was keeping her from taking the final act to fruition. An uncomfortable silence had settled between them. Krissy cleared her throat.

"Right, um… so you're probably wondering why I asked you over…." Jesse nodded. She didn't have a plan; that would have made her rigid and redundant, more so than she was already. Given that her quarry was unable to deal with a critical wound, rigidity would be detrimental to her success, hell, to her survival: flexibility would keep her from his powers, his quite human mortality his undoing.

That was the way this worked, but instead, something was interfering. It wasn't that she cared for him… no, that wasn't it. It was her hunter's intuition telling her that something wasn't right, and that her conclusion about the danger of her visitor was sorely misinformed.

"Well…?" He wasn't impatient, just on edge, and wished she would speak up. Obviously, he was able to read a bit into this, but when she had started to explain herself, he felt better getting a clear answer and not being expected to know what all this was about.

"Wow, really, this is the stuff of love stories."

Both teenagers snapped up from the couch they were sitting to face the middle aged man behind them. Jesse didn't need to look past the flesh; he could almost smell the sulfur. Risking the movement, he adjusted his body between Kris and the intruder.

Krissy could put two and two together. Her mind raced, wondering if she should just go for broke and end the cambion's life there before his, or, at least, what she assumed was his handler could stop her, or wait and see what would happen. Jesse appeared upset and worried, but this could all be an act.

But what would be the point?

"Relax, I'm in sales, and this is a business trip, not _personal_." Krissy now noticed the glass in his hand, filled with a brown liquid. Whiskey? No, too light, most likely scotch. He was well dressed, Italian suit, dress shoes, with wispy hair that made him look younger instead of older, which Krissy guessed, was the case with extreme prejudice. Now sitting on the couch, he turned to face Jesse.

"I'm here to offer a proposition for you; a chance to grow into your," he glanced at Krissy, now behind Jesse, who had backed up quite a bit, "unique abilities" Jesse glared.

"No thanks" The man frowned, but seemed unperturbed.

"Well yes, I thought you might say that, but you see, a few of our… mutual antagonists have been looking for you. And while you have been off their radar for quite some time, I have not, and as you may have figured by now, I've left a sizable trail in my wake. Now if you would like to remain… intact, I suggest we depart."

Departing was a good idea, Jesse thought. Really, he had no other options and although he figured the demon was bluffing, he wouldn't risk Kris. Or the rest of the town. There was no telling what the angels would do if they thought he was still here, and could be dispatched along with the rest of the populace.

"Your choice- time's a ticking." He swallowed the rest of the drink handily and stood. At that point there was a far off, distant sound of thunder, so it seemed to Krissy. But she was smart enough to get the idea. And Jesse _knew_ better.

Angels are a mercurial bunch, far more than even demons. While they will always claim allegiance to God, what they mean is allegiance to the heavenly host. In Jesse's mind, he figured that the Almighty had grown tired of them, and they did what they pleased, following the orders of a God who had no use for unmerciful, rigid and self aggrandizing creatures. The Angels seemed small to him; agents with a great handicap over everyone else, but without any ability to make use of it besides carrying out their little missions. His encounters with the celestials were essentially a few _almost_ close calls besides the incident with 'gravel voice' (his name for the one they called Castiel) three years ago.

"The price of being so famous is anonymity, I suppose," The man remarked off hand, as the rumbling became closer, accompanied by flickering lights, and fast, beating winds.

Despite being at ground level, Jesse had been overcome with vertigo; feeling as though _he_ were on a tilt and so was the world, following his ministrations, even when he didn't want them to. Losing sight of both Kris and the man, the world fell of its edge into the abyss.

As consuming as this darkness was, Jesse did not expect to wake up. Ever. Unlike, when fainting, this feeling of darkness was forceful, like a blanket being dragged over him, muting the outside world, and then slogging off, dissipating as it went.

Looking around he could see he was alone, and, apparently, judging from the lockers, in the school. Jesse's powers never seemed to surprise him; reality warping had limitless possibilities if you were creative.

If you weren't, well, than it was just a bad party trick- _behold_, _I will use my demonic powers to turn sacramental wine into regular water! Take that Jesus!_ Standing up, he brushed himself off, and checked his watch. It was eight at night; he had been out for fifteen minutes or so. As the night's events came back to him, he felt oddly at peace.

Not knowing where the demon was, or where Kris was, or where the angels on his ass were would leave most in a panic, if not catatonic with fear.

And yet, Jesse felt great. Well, not great, _at ease_ was a better description. He was calm, and feeling as though one should be nervous, or guilty, or scared, but the feeling was not there.

Taking in his surroundings, he found the darkened hallway illuminated minimally by moonlight. The air was still, unbroken and heavy. Jesse waited for something to happen, but it seemed it would be up to him to broach the protective but tense silence.

"Hello?" he called out, hoping not to get an answer. Even if it was just school staff working a late evening, he would have to think up an escape plan. Fortunately, there was no response. Peering around a corner of the empty floor, he glanced out a window to see which floor he was on. He could see two floors below him, both of those also dark, or at least having no light that he could see.

He wandered a bit, to see what he could, every so often attempting to shake the lack of urgency that felt like a cloudy haze about him. He wondered if this was something Crowely had done-

"Who's Crowely?" Jesse said aloud, surprised by the name, but knowing the answer: Crowely was the demon who had appeared a little over a half an hour ago in Krissy Chambers living room.

Jesse frowned. He knew Kris's full name, but he never referred to her by it in person, let alone in his head. Concentrating, he could feel the haze taking shape, shifting, like was walking through it, slowly. Or rather the haze was working through him. It felt as though he had eaten a large meal, and was slowly feeling the sluggishness wear off, and the feeling evened out, permeating his entire body, instead of just the center of his gut. Still, the leisurely feel of the moment persisted, and concentrating on anything in particular became impossible; he constantly caught himself staring into space.

Willing himself to focus, he worked through the situation. If he was here, and Krissy and Crowely were not, and yet he felt as though… as though they were _close_ by, that it was not of a concern for distance because they were where he could find them. The last time he had been able to discern things from people's minds, his powers had just been used: first to turn the angel into a figurine than to exorcize 'demon daddy dearest' and to put the angel back before he left for Australia.

So if willful use of his powers allowed him access to things that otherwise would be hidden, and thinking past the fog in his mind had been his willful use of power, where the hell were those two that they were in his radius of influence, but he couldn't see them.

A gurgle from his stomach made him look down, and frowning, that feeling of leisure melted to a white-hot fear…

"They're _inside_ me?" Obviously, not in his stomach, but yes, his understanding of the situation told him that somewhere in his… _essence_ (he felt queasy at that thought) Crowely the demon, the _crossroads_ _king_ demon, and Krissy Chambers the hunter-

Krissy was a hunter. That would explain the interest in him, the ability to find him at the most inopportune times (at least when he wasn't using his powers) and… Jesse's face darkened.

And the attempt to kill him tonight. Jesse faltered. She had hesitated. He shook his head. Why was he defending her?

Like an open book, the current troubles of Krissy Chambers surfaced in his mind: her hunting against her father's wishes, or at least without his knowledge; her inability to feel happy in a 'normal' life; her interest in making Jesse a metaphorical head on her mantle piece (or more literal) and her killing the Rak… _Rakshasa_, whatever that was. Exactly what kind of supernatural creature that was, it was too deep in Krissy's mind to fathom, and apparently only surface thoughts were available.

The instantaneous awareness of Crowely, or, as his fear of losing his stature in hell belied, _Fergus R. McLeod_ (apparently his name in life, as a tailor, Jesse gleamed) was far more interesting: he was planning to use Jesse as a weapon to corral the denizens of hell to his whim. Somehow, when he was younger demons seemed more menacing… this character was _laughable_. Jesses took him seriously, though. Any demon this clever and willing to risk death by angel was not to be trifled with. It was just that the veneer of antipathy and desire to invade was not as strong in Crowely/Fergus as it was in the demon that led to his birth.

Then again given that entity's _occupation_, perhaps those were character traits unique to it. Crowely/Fergus gave a slight understanding to the hierarchy of the demon world: there were ranks, and positions, but all Jesse could see was the concern for the demon's position in hell as 'king' and his fear of the 'old guard'- all he could make of that was an ominous feeling that even in hell, there were forces that those there were not fully aware of.

It was disturbing to say the least, so Jesse relaxed his mind, the bit of consciousness falling back to the ether.

Getting the both of them out and dealing with them thusly was going to have to wait; the angels coming from him were nowhere t be found, ands if Jesse had any understanding of his powers, it was that they attracted attention, even when the host of heaven was not gunning for his head.

Looking around, there was little he could do, the fog had lifted, some sense of urgency returned, but both positives were met with frustration: if the angels weren't on his trail, using his powers could set them back on it; if they were, he was a sitting duck. As strong as he was, he was still finding out what he could do, and he doubted that experience would enable him to take this many celestials at once.

Given the options, using his powers was the best bet. Even if he drew the angels to him, it would be on his terms, not theirs. Concentrating, he balled his fists and focused on the one ability he had a considerable amount of control over, focusing on the ground below him.

The papers the following morning would include an article about a rare earthquake in the area, unusual for its size, magnitude 3.8, strong enough to be noticed, but do no real harm.

Four suited men glanced around the Chamber household, like birds, their gaze scanned curiously, but with purpose, eyes unblinking, body's rigid, and stiff, as though unnatural to them.

The one called Isaiah saw nothing. He was sad. He was sure the demon had been here, the presence visible to him and the three others; they had confirmed this.

Uncertainty was not something angels tolerated well.

The one called Bartholomew thought something was amiss; there was no presence of sulfur as there should be.

Oddity was not something angels tolerated well, either.

The one called Ephraim pondered whether disobedience or failure would cause greater shame, for they were ordered to report back soon.

Choices were not something angels tolerated, at all.

The one called Wyatt decided this was a good opportunity to follow up on a decent lead to a dangerous enemy, and frowned at that decision.

Thinking for oneself was something _other_ angels did not tolerate, with extreme prejudice. So Wyatt kept this suggestion quiet.

A distant, yet distinct rumble sounded. The angels turned their heads towards the door.

"The ground shifts beneath the feet" Said Bartholomew, "How novel." Isaiah turned.

"The concept of 'ground', or 'feet'?" Before Isaiah could answer, Wyatt raised a hand.

"Silence." Wyatt, being the Garrison leader, received immediate compliance.

"The cambion is near; as is the demon encountered." Wyatt was grateful. Surely this was a sign from above that the original thought had before was not wrong, or corruptive.

"To the structure of greater proportion than the rest," Wyatt announced, and the others understood.

The next moment, the room was empty.

Jesse turned a corner, and found nothing. What did he have to do, blow a hole through the clouds straight to heaven?

Apparently not, because a great rumble, this time not of his doing, came through every direction, even feeling as though the vibrations were issued from his own skull.

The angels, four of them, appeared in the courtyard, as Jesse could see from a window, and he doubted there were any others, as there was no pause or hesitation in their movements or direction. The group entered the school, and began to drop in at every floor, as Jesse could hear one arrive from the sound of wing beats- apparently silence was not necessary.

Deciding to feel grateful rather than slighted at the celestial's hubris, Jesse ducked into a locker, and willed himself through the walls. He could have teleported himself he supposed, but he had a hunch that the angels would be able to track them. Instead he needed to get down to the entrance while the dolts were searching the premises; like a bloodhound with a scent, they wouldn't realize he was gone until they followed his trail back out the door.

Peeking through the vents of one locker, while keeping a hand in the void he had created for himself, he saw the partially hidden face of one angel suddenly stop and turn toward the metal box. Pulling himself back through, he didn't see Ephraim yank the door open, only to find nothing but shadows.

Continuing on through the matter, careful not to rush, which would force Jesse out into the open if the walls suddenly re-solidified… _or crush me_, he thought nervously.

Pushing through the second floor lockers, he began to form a void that would take him to the first floor, and ultimately the lobby.

Then the walls on either side of him were ripped opened. Ducking into the hole, he followed out into the first floor lobby, two angels starring pointedly at him, blades drawn.

Without other options, Jesse focused his will on the ground beneath one celestial, as it began to warp and change dragging the entity down, the angel fighting, but losing. The other three rushed him, forcing him to break his focus, the fourth angel stuck in now hard marble. It didn't hold for long though, the servant of heaven smashing through the odd cage to join his fellows.

Cornered, he tried again to trap them in the amorphous marble, but they simply stepped out of the way.

If he got out of this, he would have to work on speed. Someone must have been listening, because an odd light began to emanate from him. Jesse wondered if this was some knew Antichrist ability, but the gold tint of the light suggested otherwise. The light enveloped them, and….

"…. The angels were gone, and there you were." Jesse finished his recap, gesturing towards the floor where the hunter and the Crossroads demon had been moments before.

"And," he said to the dazed girl, "we should leave unless you want to be angel chow, or get locked up for trespassing, whichever comes first."

The knife that Krissy had produced during his tale wavered, she felt tired, as though she had been holding it above him for quite some time. Her knees buckled, and Jesse grabbed, her careful to avoid the blade, lowering her to the floor of the lobby.

"You've _literally_ been running through my mind all night, you're exhausted," he explained, still feeling some attachment to the girl. He did think she had something to do with that light, and even unintentional, he was happy.

For the fifth time that night, Krissy's world faded to black, and she cursed the darkness that was all too familiar.

She awoke, again in a hospital bed, this time though, she could see no Disney characters, and the halls were most definitely populated, bustling even, as doctors and nurses in sky blue and burgundy scrubs passed by. And this time, her father was sitting by her, in a, by the looks of it, extremely uncomfortable chair. Lee, staring off into the distance, glanced at her, and started, unaware that she was now awake. Without saying a word, he pulled his chair closer to her, and stared at Krissy, face grim.

"I'm gonna take a shot in the dark here, and assume you're pissed at me." Lee swallowed.

"Some of the guys said you were sending them tips, like Bobby used to, is that right."

Krissy nodded. Lee ran a hand through his hair. "Okay. That I get. This," he gestured toward her laid up form, "I don't. What, exactly were you thinking hunting a cambion?" Krissy blinked.

"How did you know….?"

"Your _friend_, the _cambion, _told me" Lee nodded towards the hallway, where Jesse stood, looking out a window.

"Apparently, he wasn't sore at you for trying to kill him, or at least not enough to leave you… why were you in the school again?" Lee asked, and maybe the stress of getting a call that your daughter was in the hospital, or the absurdity of the situation, but Lee let out a chuckle.

Krissy stared at her father. "Do you think this is funny? He's dangerous." Lee became serious again.

"Try to see it from my perspective, Krissy."

"Which is?"

"He kept my little girl safe." Krissy looked down.

"And I may have to keep doing so." Krissy's eyes shot back up.

"Come again?" Lee asked the raven haired boy. Jesse motioned for him to come forward and pointed out in the hall. Lee spotted a sharply dressed man inquiring at the desk, likely for a room number.

Back inside the room, Jesse spoke quickly.

We need to go into hiding, until I can find a way to kill those angels. At Lee's stare, Jesse reiterated. "Yes, angels, there hunting for me, and they'll come for you. I can't stop them, at least not for long, and if we don't leave right now, we won't be able to anything" He held out his hand. Despite trusting the teen earlier, Lee hesitated.

"Please, there's not much time." Taking Jesse's hand, and as Krissy took the other, after a moment's hesitation of her own, the three felt a rush of wind, strong enough to cause them shut their eyes.

When they opened them again, they were surrounded by forest.

"Where…?

"Outside of the town, near the highway. Can you keep safe?" Lee nodded

"Yes, we'll stay low-"

"I'm going with you. " Krissy interrupted.

Jesse stared. "How's that?" Krissy glared.

"The way I see it, I owe you for the trip to the hospital. You didn't have to do that, so now I owe you. I don't like being indebted to someone. So, I coming to help, and keep you in one piece, antichrist, or not."

"Krissy…" Lee started

"Dad. I can't put you in danger. And if I stay here, and don't get this out of my system, I will. You left the life, maybe not totally, but more than I did. Maybe, if I do this, I can stop, once and for all" Lee didn't believe any of that, but, he trusted his daughter, and knew that this situation, being a good parent meant letting go, and staying safe. So he could be there for her when she needed him.

"Fine," he acquiesced.

"Not fine!" Jesse roared. Krissy and Lee turned to look at him. "This is not safe. You need to hide."

"Listen, Rosemary's Baby, I don't care what you think. _Is_ there a place on earth where the angels can't find us?" Jesse frowned. Then blinked.

"Well you could make one, there are symbols…

"Good. Tell them to my dad, and we'll be on our way." Jesse glared.

"Listen, True Grit," Jesse mocked her, "You can't fight the angels."

"Neither can you, besides, two heads are better than one." Jesse tried to argue, but stopped. _Two heads are better than one_, was one of the things his step parents always said, especially when they wanted him to be cooperative and share with other children.

They were big on sayings.

"Alright then." Jesse submitted. Krissy stared, expecting to fight some more.

"O-okay then, it's decided." More firmly. "Good"

Jesse gave the _enochian_ symbols to Lee, and he watched the two disappear.

He thought that this was what parents felt, watching their kids go off to college, and tried to laugh, but he felt hollow inside. Tracking back to the highway, he stuck his thumb out for a ride.

"Jacob. _Jacob_. Jay-cob JACOB!" The teenage Kitsune snapped up, still drowsy.

"What the fuck?" Kate handed him a newspaper which he took automatically, but stared at uncomprehendingly. "Was this?" he slurred.

"This is a newspaper, _that_ is an article that you may want to check out, and this is the drool on my shoulder from you sleeping on it," she said with slight disgust. Looking at the paper, Jacob read about a school in which a set marble lobby and been twisted and warped, without explanation.

"What do you think?" Jacob didn't answer. Draining a bit of stale coffee from a Styrofoam cup, he simply started the car, with Kate smiling smugly.

It was a breezy mourning in Park Slope. Children laughed and played. Little Mitch slid down a set of monkey bars and, trying to grab another felt his grip falter and slip, as though it were greased. He landed on his ass. Quickly an aide rushed over to see if he was all right.

"I just slipped," said the six year old, as the aide spotted something red on his hands. Paint? Nothing was freshly painted, and obviously if it were, it would be taped off. The twenty two year old looked closer, and fought to catch her breath.

The aides were told to keep calm, and stay relaxed.

Fuck that.

As she stared at the bright red blood on Mitch's hands, she let out a high, piercing scream.

A/N: okay, so this was all supposed to be one chapter, but seriously, who's gonna read a chapter that long, and splitting it in two parts makes it more manageable. S this is, obviously part one. Part two will see Jacob and Kate talk to Lee, while Krissy and Jesse see if little Mitch has any connection to the angel squad. Until next time~ LoungeLizard


	10. Jesus of Surburbia, Part Deux

So, I'm updating this as a three parter, as I figured it wouldn't take this long and to point out that this story is now officially AU, after 8.19, 'Freaks and Geeks' I hope you enjoy it, without further ado, chapter 10

Jesse had told her, that as much as New York, and this neighborhood in particular, was revered and ridiculed for their left wing politics, and how Park Slope was the epitome of stereotypes about hipsters turned parents, it was generally a façade.

Krissy had thought he was referring to some sort of supernatural threat masquerading as suburban couples with kids.

"No, I mean this place can get _edgy_ if you're not careful. These people have a lot of specific ideas and ideals, and their not shy about defending them" Krissy looked unimpressed.

"So…

"So, this child," he gestured towards the post printed from containing a photo of Mitch Dunham which appeared to be taken from a distance without permission and captioned underneath, _The new messiah?_, six years of age and a description of the 'miracle' that had been visited upon him, "could be a lot of things… a hoax or some kind of psychic phenomenon. It doesn't mean the angels are here, but it does mean we have to be sensitive."

Unlike Jesse's warnings of the dangers of '_da slope_', as she had seen it referred to in blogs searched by the duo, his knowledge of the possibilities of the case did impress her. Not that she would tell him, of course

"Is stigmata really something that needs to be investigated?" Jesse quirked an eyebrow.

"Because bleeding from an orifice is natural?" Jesse asked rhetorically. Krissy shifted from her spot in the small diner where they stopped to review their information, to look at him.

Evenly, she replied, "Perhaps not for _you_…" Jesse looked up from the file.

"What?" Krissy turned back to the papers before them and shook her head dismissively.

"I mean, even if this turns out to be real, its not exactly curable, or even dangerous. How do we stop a miracle?"

"I don't think we have to. It's just about stopping the angels."

"You think they'll show?"

"For this, yes. If it's real. If it's not, then we could, at least, find out what's going on."

It had been a week since the two had departed to search for the angels, before they found them. Jesse had decided that the best way to meet this challenge would be to locate the celestials without them expecting it.

"How in the hell are we supposed to do that, exactly? How are we hiding from them now?" Jesse sighed.

"I'm not sure, really. I think they treat me like a toxic spill; when they see a big splotch in the middle of somewhere, they strike. So, if nothing alerts them to my presence, they can't find me, or you for that matter. As for locating them, that's slightly more difficult. They may be present at significant events, although I can't be sure."

"So, BP boy, how about instead of sitting on our hands, you light up like Rudolf and get them here so we can end this once and for all?"

"I tried that before, at the school and I barely slowed them down." Krissy snorted.

"If you can barely take on four Jesus freaks, what makes you so important?" Jesse stared.

"When I'm in control," he said slowly, "I'm not very much of a threat. _Yet_. But if I lose myself for a second or if I'm surprised…. Bad things will happen." Krissy gazed warily.

"So you could blow any second?"

"It's possible. I once turned one of them into an action figure."

"By _accident_." It wasn't a question, more an incredulous statement. Jesse nodded.

"Regular people have to focus to do spectacular things. I have to focus not to do spectacularly dangerous things." She rubbed her eyes for lack of a response, but then found a question in the back of her head that she had been meaning to ask.

"Speaking of the incident at the school, what happened?" Jesse frowned.

"I thought we went over this back there-" Krissy held up her hand.

"I know you 'It's a wonderful life-ed' me and Wormwood to some alternate dimension, which by the way your 'cornfield' could use some help, professional help," she shuddered at the memory, "but what I want to know is how I got back to Kansas." Jesse thought, he hadn't considered it actually. It was a bit serendipitous.

"I suppose I could have willed you out, and I was tired, so maybe whatever happened wore off, even if the power I use isn't intentional, it still makes me tired. What do you remember from your time there?" Krissy looked away. While it hadn't been the worse she had ever seen- attending your mother's funeral at an early age will do that to you- she did not want to think about how she was dragged into somebody's head and then collaborated with a demon, even if the demon himself (itself) didn't know it was a demon.

"Basically darkness, waking up in strange places and Lucky the leprechaun, although he was a few lucky charms short of a pot of gold" Jesse squinted in confusion.

"You mean he was out of his mind?" She shrugged.

"I'm saying he didn't know who he was. Told me his name was Fergus, not…. What did you call him?"

"Crowely"

"Right. And he didn't know where he was, or what he was doing, or why. Like that place took our memories."

"Probably a self defense thing. When you got out though, everything was normal?"

"I'm here with the antichrist, hunting angels- define normal." Jesse gazed warningly.

"Cambion" Krissy rolled her eyes.

"Fine. I'm here with a _cambion_ hunting angels. Better?" Jesse didn't answer.

"Can I ask you a question now?"

"Shoot."

"What made you so jaded towards religion?" Krissy stared, mouth agape. After a pause, and she found her voice again, she scoffed.

"I'm being asked by the antichrist," Jesse glared and she held up her hands in mock surrender, "by the cambion, about my religious credentials. Rather ironic don't you think?"

"I'm not asking about credentials; I'm asking why you refer to angels as Jesus Freaks; most people would be surprised to find that Angels would harm them. Krissy returned Jesse's gaze with a glare, then, held up three fingers.

"First, I'm guessing you haven't asked most people about this, second, even if you did, I'm not most people, third, maybe I'm just not that religious." Jesse looked at her curiously, and chose his words carefully.

"You called him Wormwood." Krissy looked confused.

"Come again?"

"You called Crowely, the _demon_, Wormwood." Krissy had a feeling here this was going, and was shocked by his perceptiveness. She made a note of being more careful around him. Still she played dumb.

"And that's supposed to mean….?"

"Wormwood is a character from the _Screwtape Letters_, a religious treaty on sin by C.S. Lewis. You must have once had some religious views, or you wouldn't have read the book."

"I read the book, so? Lots of kids read books with religious allegory in them." Jesse shook his head.

"_The Screwtape Letters_? It's pretty dogmatic for a fantasy text?" Jesse seemed incredulous, but also curious for an explanation that would tell him he was wrong, still trusting enough, or naïve enough to give people the benefit of doubt. However, a sinister thought crept into Krissy's mind, and she turned towards him accusingly.

"You're using your powers right now aren't you." For his part, Jesse looked taken aback. Didn't he just explain that use of his abilities could get them both killed?

"No, I'm not. It's called deduction. Not everything is supernatural, you know." Krissy didn't looked convinced, but backed down. Jesse decided to press on, otherwise he might look suspicious after such a charge. "You reveal a lot in your words, most people do, and I was just curious, is all." Krissy let out a long breath. Cambion or not, jumping to conclusions would only get her into trouble. "So, what happened?"

"First of all," Krissy's voice was small, "the book kind of lost its appeal when you realized that they were real, creatures I mean- and that's not how demons work at all; you don't need to sell sin to human they buy it wholesale." Krissy had heard enough horror stories (which was something, given the context) of how things became very bad for people to the things that put them into places they shouldn't be, exacerbated by cowardice and stupidity. "And after my mom died, I lost my taste for literature."

Krissy's raw voice left Jesse a little guilty, and the room of the motel where they lodged, all too quiet. Chancing to change the subject, Jesse offered up a few notes and the laptop they had picked up with some of the cash that Jesse had on him, as he was hesitant to use his powers other than for transportation. Flipping through the material, the silence turned slightly less uncomfortable, and the focus turned to locating the angels. The possibilities were wide, but they were able to narrow them when Jesse made an off- hand comment about his parentage.

"The difference, if you were wondering," he said, gingerly, "is that while people believe that the antichrist is unique, cambions are merely rare, and just the birth a person with one demon parent. In case you were curious." Jesse expected at best, a snarky remark, and at worst, more painful silence. Surprisingly, Krissy glanced up from her work.

"So… your 'father'," she made air quotes when she said that word, "was, what? Some demon fertility expert?" There was no malice or sarcasm in the question, just genuine curiosity. Jesse could respond to this.

"Well, my understanding, or I should say, my theory is that most demons aren't ranked but have specialties."

"Specialties?"

"Yeah. Like, some could be recruiters or deal makers, like Crowely. And I suppose _that _demon's function was to impregnate… you know." Krissy nodded quickly, happy to avoid the awkwardness.

"So there could be others, theoretically?" She was not eager for the silence to continue. Jesse frowned, in thought. The way the angel came at him, and the way the demon fought to claim him, it would seem he was unique. But… it didn't seem too complicated to impregnate a woman while she was possessed.

"Yes, _theoretically_. But the demon made it seem as though the process was hard- most women don't survive the birthing process. I guess it's a shot in the dark sort of thing." Krissy nodded.

"okay, but if there were more of you, people like you, the Angels would be after them, right."

"That would be sensible."

"Right. So what if we look for others like you, or at least that would _suggest_ there are others like you."

"How do you mean?"

"Well, when your powers, or abilities first manifested, what happened?"

"A lot of shit, really, take your pick," Jesse replied bluntly. Krissy smirked.

"Specifics, please."

"Well, reality warping in general. Urban legends became reality. The impossible became possible. But in a specific area."

"Because your abilities were still developing."

"And still are."

"So, there should be a supernatural event that would look like a cambion right?"

"As broad as my powers seem, it would be probable."

"something strange…." Kitty scrolled through a web pages, blogs, news, message boards, until something hit her. using the qualifier, 'small children' Kitty had pulled up a page on what the site labeled as special children, expressing abilities from telekinesis to telepathy, to precognition, and other seemingly miraculous feats. It occurred to her there wasn't a great amount of difference between purported antichrists and supposed vessels of the 'Lord Almighty'; exorcism, command of the elements, divine knowledge. Something stuck out, however: _stigmata_: The phenomenon of people experiencing the wounds of the crucifixion of Jesus Christ. Scrolling down the page of information about the cases, most of them seemed rather old, a year ago at _least. _However something pooped up in a medical page link to the site.

"Jesse, come here, this look like something your angel buddies would be into?" Jesse frowned.

"They are not my buddies." Still, he looked over Krissy's shoulder.

"Bleeding from the wrists, but with no discomfort."

"Seems legit. Doesn't say hands."

"Because it is impossible to nail someone to a board through their hands."

"Correct."

"This child may be in danger."

"Why would the Angels want to harm a kid with stigmata? Isn't that a calling card of their boss?"

"It's a sign of Jesus. Most denominations disagree on why stigmata appears; some say it's a sign of possession, some a divine miracle. Besides the angels seem more Old Testament, rather than New Testament. I haven't seen or heard of Jesus in any of the encounters I've had, and if the angels were intent on killing me, I guess they don't have a belief in a messiah to do it for them, or aren't aware of one."

"So, they'll just kill him, because…? If they don't know or believe Jesus, what does it matter to them?"

"People could start regarding this boy as an idol."

"And the angels won't like that?"

"No."

"As opposed to money, fame and other religions?"

"I gather they're more in the business of enforcing God's will, or what they believe it to be. Since most religions have a central god, most people live within rules like the Ten Commandments, and such. But if people start to make up false doctrine…."

"The angels will come to set them straight for trying to change the religion, rather than just obeying a different one."

"Correct," Jesse said mocking Krissy's earlier superiority. She ignored it.

"You can get us there?"

"I don't see how the angels would track us. They can only monitor a particular area- and only if they are aware of it, something catches their attention."

"Two people randomly showing up won't?"

"If my understanding is correct, with the advent of modern technology, it's hard for them to tell the difference between the supernatural and the advancements of humanity. Unless they're sure, they won't strike."

"If your understanding is correct."

"Well, it is a gamble, but so far, we've been safe. The only added risk is if the angels are there already."

"You back up to full strength? Or is half of my body going to be left here?"

"Teleportation is easy. It's the one ability that never gives me trouble, even when I'm tired."

"If you say so." Krissy wasn't really concerned. One of the few past times she had was poking fun at Jesse, who was rather rigid for a teenager. She wasn't a barrel of fun either, but at least she didn't speak as though giving a lecture. In fact, this was the first time, Krissy had heard the boy curse, or speak without eloquence in the entirety of the time they had been together. Deciding not to make the same mistake he had in asking about her religious ideals, she avoided bringing it up, and the two quickly found themselves in an urban area (Jesse had memorized a picture of Central Park) brownstone buildings in the distance visible, as they had appeared near one of the entrances. Krissy made a show of checking for missing body parts and Jesse trotted away from her. After a pause to make sure there was not going to be an angel ambush, the two exited the park, their arrival masked by the ambiguity of such an open space.

Krissy took in their surroundings as they walked along the edge of the park's enclosure. The park was massive, but nothing compared to the wood lands she had seen when traveling with her father. For some reason though, the park looked bigger because of it's ensconce in the gray of the concrete; it was as though she were looking at the eye of some great and massive creature, or a portal to some world. She could imagine plummeting from the sky into that vastness: for it looked like she were staring down at the world, rather than across. Krissy let out a breath.

"This land mass gets more smooth towards the center than the edges."

"Come again?"

"That's why you're feeling the vertigo-I noticed you looked a little pale- it's more uneven and wide spaces magnify the effect you otherwise wouldn't notice, like this park." Glancing back at the area, Krissy turned and began a faster pace.

"Thanks for the science lesson, Professor Beakman."

"I know that's an insult, but you're welcome." Krissy and Jesse walked a little further before he spoke again.

"So, what exactly is out plan, here?" She stopped and spun to face him.

"You mean, you don't have one?" To Jesse's surprise, the question wasn't accusing, but merely curious.

"I do, but I believed you would be resistant, and have your own ideas. So I decided it would be best to allow yours to… run its course.

"You mean fall apart and have me rely on you." It wasn't a question, and it had that adversarial edge it didn't before.

"You said it, not I." Krissy narrowed her eyes, but stopped and drew out a long breath.

"Look, I want the same thing you do, that is, the same thing I _assume_ you do. So how about we compare plans and get on with it?"

Sitting in a small coffee shop-the Starbucks was too crowded and made Krissy feel exposed-at a corner table, with the largest thing on the menu they could afford, the two focused on specifics after Jesse's warnings about the locals. They needed time, and it was hard to plan with the manager checking if you wanted anything else.

"So staking out the house is agreed upon?" The duo had found the building fairly quickly. It wasn't a hose as much as it was an apartment, but what led them to it was outside, on the front steps. Several candles extinguished, their light superfluous in the day time. Displaying the images of saints, eyes shut in pastel colors, surrounded by flowers in the form of a small shrine. Without notes of condolences, this was most assuredly a tribute to a miracle, the flowers bright and colorful, and no trace of mourning present. Jesse had made a note that the shrine was likely erected by those of a catholic denomination, as displaying saints is a cultural phenomenon, and generally not in the practices of other denominations. Unfortunately there was no way of telling which apartment the kid was on, and as Krissy pointed out, it was not wise to be seen near the shrine if the angels had already arrived, or if other elements such as a super or a tenant spied them and called the police, so they quickly left.

"Yes, but how?"

"Well generally from a car, but in this case the bushes will have to do." Jesse frowned. Krissy raised her eyebrows. "You have a better idea?" The boy glanced out the window. She waited expectantly.

"Well, and keep in mind, this is the part I believe you'll be resistant, I think it would be better to set up a station in the house across the street." Krissy looked inquisitive.

"How do we do that without renting an apartment?" Jesse paused.

"My abilities shouldn't alert out targets to our presence…." He paused again.

"Good for you. How does that help us?" Jesse averted his eyes again.

"Well-

"Spit it out!" Krissy spoke a bit too harshly for a hushed whisper and a few of the other patrons turn to stare. Waiting the awkward moments until they turned back to their drinks and papers, Krissy leaned in closer.

"We don't have a lot of time okay? How long before those angels come looking for us? How long before we lose the advantage of surprise?" More determined now, Jesse nodded.

"Right. You see, I can cloak myself and others, manipulate reality in this way so that we could appear to be more prospective buyers for an apartment that became available shortly after the news broke about the boy's condition, I guess they didn't like the sort that started flocking to the building."

"They left, but the people in the apartments in the actual building stayed?" Jesse shrugged.

"Perhaps they were more sympathetic, knowing the child and his parents?" Krissy shifted, glancing out the window; the streets separating the apartment complexes were narrow, the roads less dominating with buildings and individual trees staking their claim for attention, than on the open highway to which she was accustomed. She had seen big cities before, but never this blend of microcosms.

"But across the street makes that much of a difference?" Jesse nodded.

"I told you that there were divides here, territories almost. I matters more here than in other parts of the community."

"Logistically or supernaturally?"

"Both, actually; NYC is rife with cases, from urban legends to psychic phenomena. And a heavy amount of differing religions, cultures and beliefs as well-" Krissy held up her hands.

"I get it. So when the four amigos show up, what then?"

"We draw these sigils around the building, so they can't get in. What was your idea?"

"I was wondering if they got in, but these symbols were on every surface outside, then they couldn't leave? Or does it not work that way?"

"Generally the sigils keep angels out; however it would stand to reason that they couldn't teleport out of a space if blocked by sigils, since the building acts as outside space. Of course that creates the problem of how do we protect the persons inside and how do we stop their attempts to destroy the building, as the sigils only trap them, it doesn't mean it'll weaken them." Krissy thought for a moment.

"How about placing sigils on the doors in places the tenants wouldn't notice? Then the ass-hats would be stuck inside but unable to enter, and unable to leave."

"And once their trapped…?"

"Can't you work your powers to trap them in a world like you did me and the demon? And figure out how to kill them permanently, without the 'angel killing blade' they carry? Or, I don't know, do something to them. You're the anti- you're the cambion," she switched when Jesse opened his mouth to protest, "aren't you able to…. _Vanquish_ an angel if it's trapped and you can get a hold on it?" Jesse had made a big deal about his abilities, their dangers their problems- if he admitted that he couldn't handle the celestials when they were boxed in, he first, would be wrong, likely; the angels wouldn't care otherwise and found he could do things a little easier and a little better day by day and second, he would feel like a coward if he didn't at least try.

"Vanquish, not necessarily, confuse and disorient yes, _probably_."

"So once we trap 'em you'll work that _voodoo you do so well_ and focus on rendering them harmless." Jesse stared. Krissy tried to reassure him. "Be creative, mix and match, through a curve ball in there, you know?" Jesse had a wry smile.

"Are you advising me on how to defeat our enemy or tips for my first time with a girl?" The phrasing was awkward and it took a moment for Krissy to catch the joke. When it sunk in though, Jesse and her herself were surprised by the snorting laugh that burst forth, Krissy clasping her hands over her mouth, certain of the confused and a little agitated stares of those around them. Jesse had been prepared for at best a retort in kind. The genuine laugh produced a genuine smile, and Jesse couldn't help but think that Krissy, for a moment looked like a _normal_ girl. Jesse's smile faltered.

Jesse was no authority on normal.

Krissy sobered from the high of her laughing fit, and frowned. "We're forgetting something."

"That goes without saying; but what we can't anticipate will have to be dealt with on the fly." He took an experimental sip of the now cooled coffee, and found it not unappealing. Krissy shook her head.

"I mean this is a supernatural event, and we haven't considered the cause of it." Jesse nodded sagely, that was a good point. Something in him told him to stop being so lax, that he was supposed to be solving this on his own and dealing with his unexpected companion. Hoping to silence that nagging feeling and answer Krissy's concern, Jesse came up with a few explanations that may require their involvement.

"Well, it could be the work of a spell, a curse, or a way for the parents to bring in money by exploiting their son, or possibly the result of some deal, or some occupying entity within the boy."

"Like a parasite?" Jesse tipped his head in consideration.

"Somewhat like that, in the vein of creating followers. I mean, the theories are, as stated before, all over the place." Krissy sighed.

"Looks like we're going to have to do some leg work."

This was the part of hunting she hated.

Research could be mind numbing and dead end half the time, and theory postulating frequently served as a lesson in humiliation when you realized you had overlooked that crucial point of information - the only reason that mortification hadn't yet turned to crushing guilt was due to the fact that most of her efforts up till now had been theoretical, or general, and Krissy gave so many caveats to her aid that it sounded like a contract for a new car, (_information may not be correct. Client hunts at his/her own risk and takes on all responsibility here on in, including but not limited to death, torture, possession, being sired as a vampire/werewolf/undead creature/etc, soul crushing guilt, crisis of conscience, …. Client promises not to seek revenge as said undead creature/vengeful spirit and horribly murder this scared little girl trying to act tough and professional.) _and was taken with a grain of salt, even if she was _Lee's kid_, she was still _a_ _kid. _

Hunting itself was fine- testing out one's own theory removed the guilt and allowed for the credit, which wasn't the point, but still, without credit no one would listen to a hunter, and no one would help, risk their hide for a suicide mission of incompetence.

But the legwork- talking to people to get a handle on what things were was always the worst part. It was a consensus agreed upon by many hunters, or at least the majority that Krissy overheard whenever they came over to talk shop or play cards with Lee, that talking to someone who just lost a friend, loved one or saw something horrible done to a complete stranger was the worst, pretending that everything was all right, lying to their face that what they have seen isn't what they thought, or being complicit in the act of keeping someone ignorant of what was out there made them feel like bastards.

Krissy had little experience of course; no matter how good a fake badge is, how seamless the credentials are and how confident someone is, if a four foot eleven baby-faced girl comes up to a lead claiming to be an agent, or an officer or other figure of authority, those individuals will become suspicious.

But that was just an excuse. There were ways around it.

Like now, as Krissy buttoned up the sky blue dress shirt and tucked it into a pencil skirt. After a stop at a department store, intentional- social workers shouldn't wear designer duds, as Jesse pointed out.

Krissy stared at him for a full minute after that.

The purchase of a purse that served as file holder (filled with the information they had already collected, ironically) completed the look. _Almost_.

Krissy stared at the half demon boy, tube of ruby red lipstick in hand.

"I'm a social worker, not a call girl." Jesse tilted his head.

"You equate a little make up with prostitution? How odd." Krissy huffed at the assertion.

"I'm not equating anything. It's just, it's really…. _Bright_. Jesse nodded.

"Of course it is. You're a social worker, you don't really have an eye for colors."

"Then why does it matter if I put that _crap_ on my face?" Krissy had gritted her teeth.

"Because you're character wants to look pretty, even if no one else looks at her like that."

"This is a case, not fucking _Argo. _No one cares."

"Of course they do. In the modern world people have a lot of time to think. They have a lot of time to, thusly, _judge_. And this lipstick is the easiest way to make them judge you as a lower middle class social worker with no aptitude for physical appearance, but as someone who tries." Krissy shut her eyes, accepting the inevitable.

"Fine, give me the damn thing." Jesse handed the brass colored tube over. Staring in the bathroom mirror of the motel they were in currently, using the last of Jesse stash, Krissy awkwardly tried to get into a position to apply the coating, but every time she got close, she felt as though it would smear all over her face. Jesse stared, but made no move to assist. She realized he was waiting to be asked.

"Would you mind?" she held out the tube to him, who seemed relieved she finally gave in, and trotted over.

"Pucker up, like a fish," Jesse instructed, and for a brief moment Krissy felt like a character from a Beverly Cleary novel.

"There you go, all done." Jesse stepped back to admire his work, as Krissy glanced in the mirror. Her skin wasn't pale, so much as it wasn't all that tan, yet because the color was so bright, in comparison she looked like a ghost.

"Thanks _Beezus" _

"Come again?" She shook her head.

"Don't worry about it." Taking a step back to observe her new look, she was glad they had avoided the heels that Jesse had suggested; no amount of practice could help her master the art of stiletto. Instead the flats looked more like her, or at least the version she was trying to channel in order to convince a worried mom beset by religious fanatics who thought her child was a harbinger of the second coming, and possibly burdened by angels who thought the exact opposite, and were to ensure that it did not happen with extreme prejudice.

Krissy was supposed to _like_ challenges. She nodded, mostly to herself/

"Let's do this."

"That won't be necessary, Ms. Orson, I'll only be here a little while." Krissy or 'Alyssa Matthews' (she pulled two random names out of a television show, _Charmed_, when she realized that after everything, they hadn't decided on a name for her) waved off the offer of tea. Suggesting the time of the visit would be short waved off suspicion as well, although Patricia Orson seem to relax a lot, although not completely, when Krissy assured her that her visit was because of reports of "external instigators" and not about her parenting.

"So, I just need to ask a few questions, and I'll be on my way, okay?" Krissy asked in a sweet voice. The woman nodded.

"Sounds great." _If this was how she looked when she thought something was great, she must be an _absolute_ mess when upset, _Krissy thought sarcastically. Krissy nodded as well and pulled out a clipboard, with a few questions scrawled on it (which Jesse had infuriatingly insisted on calling a _prop_) and smiled again, wondering if it were too fake at first, and then realizing that if she really were Alyssa Matthews, social worker, it probably would be.

"Okay, so firstly, I'd like to know, how long ago", she internally winced as how many of her sentences rhymed, "did the, ah, _incident_ occur?" Patricia paled.

"Well, until I got that call from school, his school, I mean, I work at an office, paralegal, um, which was three weeks ago, the call that is, not when I started working…. everything seemed fine, my doctor, that is, my pediatrician says everything is fine with him, it's just he doesn't talk much, my son I mean, the doctor talks a lot… but I always listen. Because it's important to, you know?" Krissy detected a moistly dropped valley girl accent, and the woman seemed to stop herself every time the inflexion made itself present. Krissy nodded, shit-eating grin still plastered across her face.

"Sure, sure. Next question. Has there been any odd disturbances?" Krissy watched the woman warily, both for suspicion and a tell, if she was lying.

"Like what?"

"Anything, really. Strange persons, out of the blue visits, anything that seems strange, out of the ordinary." _Besides me_, Krissy thought, cursing Jake for the oddity of the questions. If the woman was off-put, her demeanor showed no change.

"Well, the whole blood thing aside, and those church going people out there with that shrine," her face wrinkled in distaste, and Patricia paused, "not that I frown upon the church, or anything, I'm not particularly religious, or anything…. But I believe in god…" She blinked, realizing she had forgotten the original question momentarily. "nothing strange besides that, not I can think of… at the moment.

"By the way, how long have these church going people visited your place of residence?"

"About a week after it happened, I heard a sort of, well, _hymnal_, I suppose, and looked out to see them there, and then they started to ring my bell, I don't know how they got my name, and I didn't answer. But I was scared, and I called the police, and they scattered when they came, but they've been coming back every other night since, even after Lou- he's the super- took away their shrine, the built a new one. Twice." Krissy nodded. "The police say they can't do anything, cause they- _technically_- haven't done anything wrong, really."

The last question was Krissy's own. It was hard for her to understand how people could just show up and start offering up… What was the word Jesse used? - _Praise- _convinced of certainty, especially when the focus of that conviction didn't want to be bothered, or in Mitch's case, couldn't comprehend it. Noticing the woman staring, waiting for her to continue, Krissy mentally shook herself out of her revere.

Scanning the list of questions prepared, Krissy found one that felt appropriate, if uncomfortable.

"I don't mean to pry, but do you have contact with Mitch's father?" Patricia swallowed thickly. Krissy frowned, though more at herself than the woman's reaction. _How is that anything _but_ prying? _Krissy waited for a moment.

"It's only a formality of course-"

"No, no, I understand it's just that, I'm not really sure _who_ he is… Mitch's father, that is. That's why I left the birth certificate blank, right?" Krissy's eyebrows rose. That last statement made Krissy feel like a mall Santa who had been asked why she didn't know the names of the children without asking them.

"I'm aware, but sometimes it's a matter of preference rather than not knowing. Patricia nodded, seemingly accepting that answer. "Do you mind if I ask about his birth?" Patricia shook her head and waited.

"Were there any complications besides what would be in a medical file? Something you didn't want to report?" Patricia looked down and fiddled with her hands. "It's very important, in order to compile a full report, in order to help end this."

Krissy pushed.

"After I had him, I had very bad… I want to say PPD, but it didn't _feel _that way."

"How do you mean?"

"I had him young… not that young, but young enough that for a little bit, I didn't want him, and was angry with myself for g-getting caught. And I was _really_ careful." This last part was said mostly to her self, but Krissy caught it, not making any response. "But after a while I got used to it, and I-I felt proud that I could handle it- with a little help from my parents, of course, the apartments in this area don't come cheap, you know?" Krissy nodded, but still remembered that last comment. Exits were the worst of footwork, and now that she had what she needed, she wanted to make a hasty one.

"That's great. Sounds like Mitch has a great home here." She pretended to ruffle a few pages, glancing at the woman who had brightened significantly at the compliment. "And I'll get this information back to my supervisor and see if we can't get rid of those individuals for you, how does that sound?" Krissy stood and Patricia followed, walking her to the door, glad to have made a good impression, even, as the girl could see, the woman didn't understand how.

Outside, Krissy let go of a breath she didn't know she had been holding.

Walking down the block, she pulled out a pre paid phone, and dialed Jesse.

"Hello?"

"Sup, Jumper?" I think I've got a lead." She was giddy, high from the success of charade.

"_Jumper_?" Krissy rolled her eyes.

"Your take-away from 'I've got a lead' is to focus on a nickname?"

"Steven Gould's coming of age story, right, because of my powers?"

"Jesse, focus"

"I'm just appreciating your sense of humor, clever reference, that. What's the lead, _Millie_?"

"I am _not_ Millie to your David!"

"_Now_ who's hung up over a nickname? Tell me about the lead."

"She said she was very careful, and after having the kid, she felt off about him." There was a pause.

That's a lot of women, Krissy"

"She doesn't know the father, and seemed reluctant to discuss it."

"Again a lot of women. It's a national tragedy, I hear." Krissy stopped walking.

"Ha-Ha. Trust me, okay. What would be the point of this, anyway? She's freaked out by the people coming to her apartment. She's just trying to be a good mother. And when she told me about the kid's father, she looked like she was sick, almost dreading it. Why would she be that way? Do you think she's worried about what I think?"

"How do you mean?"

"It was like she told me that she didn't know as an excuse… what could be so bad?" Krissy could hear the sympathy in her own voice.

"The father could be a criminal or abusive… It might be necessary to obtain some information."

"I don't think this disguise is going to work on medical doctors, or actual social workers."

"I'll be doing the, what did you say, _legwork, _this time."

"Won't that attract the attention of you- know- who?" Krissy wasn't superstitious, but she damn sure didn't want to be responsible for their deaths, and felt that their enemies could be listening.

"Not if I use it on myself. The angels are more… _big_ than small changes in the world, they don't notice if a single person goes missing or changes, only if something against natural law becomes reality."

"Unless they're looking." Jesse made a noise of agreement on the other end.

"Do you have the hospital name?" Krissy pulled out the info she had gathered under guise of 'initial information'.

"Let's see… New York Presbyterian…. Why?"

"I have an idea. I will meet you back at the motel in an hour… _hopefully_. Assuming everything goes well, of course.

"And if it doesn't?"

"Good luck to you, then." Krissy gaped at the cell.

"That's _it_?"

"As you've pointed out to me this is a _temporary_ partnership. I have no expectation of you coming to find me." It wasn't lost on Krissy that the reverse did not hold true for Jesse.

"Sounds like a plan," She replied neutrally.

"See you then." She hit the off button without saying anything.

She would be damned, no pun intended, to be made to feel guilty by a demon child.

"Dr. Winslow?"

'Dr. Winslow' smiled at the medical assistant who handed the files he had asked for.

"Thank you. These will be a great help in my research." Sitting at a work station in New York Presbyterian, the good doctor flipped through some of the documents.

Jesse would have to be careful. If he became to engrossed he might just be too relaxed and let his current visage, Doctor Aaron Winslow, from Milwaukee, specializing in gynecology and currently conducting a research study in early in life pregnancies after eighteen years of age (because the interest was in the psychological aspect, and earlier subjects would have serious medical complications, and thus would queer the results). As of now, Jesse had a five o'clock shadow, jet lag and bags under his eyes because he wasn't used to the New York noise and commotion. Jesses even had a funny Milwaukee story, 'if anyone cared to hear it?'

Sifting through the folders- births from a particular month (Mitch's of course) and began looking for something out of the ordinary.

Particularly, multiple births that did not have a father listed. Multiple events meant a source, and would give an established time frame. In Jesse's understanding, most supernatural creatures did things in patterns- hunt, feed, sleep, awaken, _mate_- and so if they could find a pattern, they would have their supernatural being.

All in all, Jesse wasn't really lying; he _was_ conducting a research study.

So far, as Jesse scribbled notes in a note pad, none of the births showed a pattern in the month that Mitch had been born. He considered phoning Krissy to ask if August was the correct birth month, but figured it was more likely that he was missing something. Krissy wouldn't get something this important wrong.

_But what? If there's no pattern of children, maybe Mitch was special, or his mother is at least. But how to select a mate._

Jesse was aware of the parallels between his search and his own…. _Conception. _Perhaps he was biased to assume that, if legit, this had to be a case of paranormal breeding?

Jesse did not trust Krissy's assertion, but the only way to find out would be to try a few hypotheses and see if anything stuck. Still, Jesse understood the effect authority had on people, even her faux social worker guise- it did not seem likely that this woman would lie to cover the criminality or abuse of a man she was no longer with, absent any fear, except when the child was brought up. That suggested to him that the birth was odd, and if it was merely embarrassment over being unable to identify his father, she wouldn't have been so quick to respond.

Jesse, however, trusted Krissy's instincts, and judgment, especially of people, but then, outside of dry quantities such as behavior and cognition, he wasn't an expert, so he had nothing to gauge her by.

And if the birth is the problem, the conception might be the solution.

_Perhaps… Mitch is six, so… seven years ago._

If Mitch was a child of something other than the usual means, than seven years ago, accounting for fetal development, there should be some disturbance.

Checking to see that he hadn't inadvertently reverted, Jesse turned to the internet icon on the workstations computer, and hit the various search browsers, looking for odd incidents in the area, around 2006. Unfortunately 'odd' was a poor key word, this being New York, and was too general.

_What word do people use to describe that which mystifies them, or has no answer?_

Jesse typed 'Unexplained' in to the search browser, narrowing the results he queued to nothing later than 2006, and then 2007, not having an exact date, and considering that while the birth might have been natural enough to have in a hospital, the period of development didn't have to be.

Nothing for 2006, 2007 didn't seem to hold any answers, until….

A news article describing a black out. In the area, blamed on the faulty electric grid, a major black out had lasted for two days at least, three or four in other parts of the northeast. There were no other such outages that were similar in time and geography, and in all sense was an outlier.

Jesse/Dr. Winslow scanned a few more pages searching for any other possible leads, but found nothing as convincing. It was a little on the nose, but in the realm of the supernatural, concessions of complete understanding had to be made. Deciding it would be too risky to print, as the staff might ask questions over such an unusual document, for a gynecologist at least, he scribbled down any pertinent information, such as locations, officials to contact (or at least research) and leads in the subsequent investigation.

Getting ready to leave, something else occurred to him. Sitting back down, Jesse searched through the pages for similar incidents. Finding nothing, even after searching for similar blackouts or electrical disturbances in smaller areas, Jesse tried a shot in the dark.

Removing blackouts, he replaced it with 'weather outliers' and found a few notes of interest- a freak snowstorm in April, a massive one just two years ago, a string of heat waves every summer in the nineties, and after that last snowstorm, barely anything, in terms or precipitation. Another thought struck and Dr. Winslow's hands stilled over the keyboard. Jesse's swallowed.

_I'm on official business… I don't have time to revel in my own problems._ A sneaking suspicion told him otherwise, why he wouldn't check the circumstances around his own birth.

He was afraid.

A beeping from his phone told him at least fifty minutes had passed in the body of Aaron Winslow, and that it was time to check in with Krissy.

_Saved by the bell._

Krissy glared at the phone displaying _incoming call_, sitting on the bed. This was the second time Jesse had tried to reach her, as, baring a wrong number, no one else would call; no one else had the number. Gripping it more tightly than necessary, Krissy took the phone in hand, and jabbed at the button to answer.

"_What_?" There was a scoff at the other end of the line.

"You're supposed to say _hello_- manners, my dear."

"Fuck off. What'd you get?"

"I'm still not sure this is a concrete case, but there is an oddity close to when the child would have been conceived- besides, there's still chance the angels will show, if they believe that the attention this child receives will cause problems."

"What oddity?"

"Blackout, in 2007. I didn't find anything off with the births, they seem relatively normal. But if this a singular, idiosyncratic case, than that shouldn't deter us. And a blackout usually means something big, _unique_."

"Any theories?" There was no answer. Krissy scowled. "Crappy prepaid phones…" she turned and started at the smiling face of Jesse, reflexively hurling the burner phone at him. After a fumble or two, he caught it.

"None at the moment, actually" He grinned wildly. "Sorry to startle you" Jesse wasn't, if his stifled laughter was any indication.

"All that power and you use it to play stupid tricks. Your parents must be so prou-" Krissy shut her eyes. _Stupid, stupid, stupid! _Krissy opened her eyes. Jesse stood there, and she silently thanked whoever was responsible for that small miracle. Jesse eyebrow was quirked. "Sorry. Didn't mean to be an asshole." Jesse frowned.

"Why would you-_oh_. I assumed you meant my adoptive parents, and even then…. I wouldn't know.

"What?"

"If they're proud of me, or would have accepted me. It is a lot to handle, after all."

"Not helping me make any less guilty, here."

"Sorry." Jesse seemed sincere this time. _That worked out better than I expected_, Krissy thought.

"Right, er, me too. Let's just get back to work, sound good?" The boy brightened.

"Sounds _great, _actually," he chirped. Krissy nodded slowly, unsettled by the rapid change in demeanor.

"So what causes black outs, besides you, I mean?"

"That wasn't me. My bet is that our demon instigator brought the angels with him, while he was tracking me, so that he could sic them when he thought best, and they caused the power disruptions. Didn't work out too well for Fergie, did it now?" Jesse laughed at the nickname.

"Jesse." He stopped laughing and glanced at her. She seemed annoyed.

"What's wrong?" Krissy sighed.

"Angels can cause blackouts?"

"Sure. You see, they generate an electromagnetic field that when entering the atmosphere acts like a sunspot disrupting electricity, communication signals and like-" For the second time in as many days, Krissy held up her hand to stop the stream of information.

"No, Jesse. Think this through. Angels cause blackouts. We're looking for a supernatural being or phenomenon that causes blackouts. See where I'm going with this?"

"Well, it's a bit unorthodox. Most angels opinions of humans is rather low. I believe they refer to us as 'mud monkeys' from what I gleamed in my last encounter with one, although this one seemed more sympathetic."

"Was that before or after it tried to _kill_ you?"

"Point taken, but, it only serves my argument; angels wouldn't be caught dead with a human, at least, not in that capacity."

"You're telling me it's impossible.?"

"Not impossible, no. The Christian bible speaks of the nephilim, or the children of the servants of God and the off spring of man, implying that the mother was human and the father was a _fallen_ angel. But from what I gather, the only fallen angel is _the_ fallen angel.

"The devil."

"Lucifer, yes."

"Didn't other angels fall with him?" Jesse stayed quiet.

"I believe the angel I knew was too young, relative to angels, of course, to have seen the fall of Lucifer. In _Castiel's_ mind, that particular angel was one of the first, and he was on of the last created."

"Angels have names?"

"You seem surprised."

"What would they need names for?" Jesse shrugged as his response, one of the only indicators, Krissy noted, that the boy was truly a teenager.

"Something to put on their nametags, perhaps, that say, 'Hi! I'm so and so." There was a lull in the conversation, before Krissy realized she recognized the name.

"_Castiel_? Is that what you said?" Jesse nodded, not looking at her, flipping through a few of the documents.

"Was any one with him?" Now Jesse met her gaze.

"Two hunters, Sam and Dean Winchester." He paused before adding, "Friends of yours?"

"Something like that." Krissy gazed out the window of their motel room. "Small world, the odds of us both knowing the Winchesters.

"Is something out there?" Krissy frowned.

"You ever get the feeling you're being watched?" Jesse looked out the window.

"All the time"

Kate hissed as the muscles in her neck resisted her attempts to loosen them, the crick only seeming to grow worse as she turned her head from side to side. She knew she shouldn't have fallen asleep on the ride over, but staying awake for such a long car ride, right after dealing with a vengeful spirit proved to be too much for her.

Apparently Kitsunes did not have the same issues. Jacob was in good spirits, and excited, having revised his theory about the Winchesters after some research.

"This could be the one. It's strange enough, after all." Resting against the Monte, Kate was not impressed.

"What, a blood thirsty spirit isn't good enough for them?" Kate hardly thought she, or Michael and even Brian, for that matter were worse than the incorporeal menace.

"These guys are professionals. They've been known to come back again and again, even from certain death." _Like cockroaches, _he thought. "It's unlikely they worry about vengeful spirits, no matter _who_ it kills. If Kate caught the distaste in Jacob's tone, she seemed to ignore it.

"Okay, but how do we get to talk to anyone about what happened? I don't think my cop disguise will work twice, especially since it's styled after the New York police uniform.

Jacob grinned. "I've thought about that."

Kate, decked out in… the clothes she slept in, arrived on the scene, phone set to record. Posing as a student journalist was much easier, as she wasn't paralyzed with fear; she was lying in no way- she was, once at least, a student, and she was attempting to find out what was going on here.

Of course she had the added mission of spying the Winchesters, before they spotted her. it occurred to her to question Jacob's motives, but as he was always elusive, she resigned to keeping alert if he seemed to do anything rash.

Approaching the mob surrounding the high school, she saw neither of the two, but did see what looked like a federal agent speaking to the crowd. Aping the reporters around her, she placed her phone amid the microphones, recorders, and similar devices as the agent spoke.

"…..there appears to be nothing suspicious here, folks. Just an unusual, but _natural_ phenomenon involving water tables and poor construction." A reporter spoke up.

"So you're saying marble was _altered_ because it was poorly constructed?" She didn't sound convinced.

"We believe that what was told to the school board to be marble was actually a lower grade and cheaper substitute, but was billed as marble in order to cheat the school out of money. We're not sure what substance as of yet," he concluded, reacting to a raised hand, which was then put down. Another went up in its place- Kate's. The reporters glanced at her, and Kate swallowed, but immediately relaxed when they rubbernecked to look at the agent for an answer.

"Will criminal charges be filed?" The federal agent paused, as if startled by the question, which she thought was rather routine.

"Locating the company that provided the service will be up to the local officials and the school board. Our, the FBI'S inquiry is whether any suspicious, possibly dangerous or related activity was involved and it does not appear to be. One more question." Kate tuned out the last question, paying attention to the agents reaction. The man was in his late forties, early fifties, and only now beginning to gray in places. Kate flashed back to Detective Clarkson- who was already gray-haired despite looking to be the same age. He seemed unkempt for a federal agent, not untidy or sloppy, just not as formal. He seemed an odd choice for the role he was given, public speaking, and seemed just as interested in the reporters as did the reporters in what he had to say, maybe even more so. Finally Kate noticed his eyes falling on her every so often.

"Thank you, that'll be all." The agent turned away, and the reporters began to disperse. Kate paused, watching the agent go back into the school. She turned to leave and return to the car but paused. She felt the eerie feeling of being watched and looked back at the building. Seeing nothing, she hesitated, sure that the 'agent' was watching. She stopped, and defiantly glared at the brick, not willing to play in her mind, a game of cat and mouse.

_Or werewolf and hunter…_

It seems Krissy Chambers fics are popular now, and hopefully someone will add her to the character roster, or maybe tell me how to do it, since I'd also like to add Jacob and Kate, as allows up to four characters per fic now. Anyway, chapter eleven will finally reveal who- or what- fathered Mitch and if you haven't already figured it out, deal with Kate's confrontation with Lee. Till then~ LoungeLizard.


	11. Jesus of Surburbia (Part Tre)

"So, we're settling on 'angel', then?" Jesse's question went unanswered. Krissy stared out of the hotel window, uneasy. Jesse had explained that his feeling of being watched was merely a psychological phenomenon; and likely hers too. Krissy agreed but seemed distracted. "Kris-"

"Until we have something better, yes, although I doubt it. All the evidence we have suggests it." Jesse nodded, slightly perturbed at having a conversation with the back of her head,

"That's not much though, is it? A blackout that fits in with your hunch, and some suspicious locals, to boot. After all, a lot could cause blackouts." Krissy still didn't turn around.

"Such as?"

"An ultra-terrestrial could, for instance." Jesse hoped the unusual term would catch his chestnut haired companion off guard.

"An extra dimensional being or an entity from hyperspace?" Jesse mouth fell open, and Krissy had yet to move from her vantage point.

"Well either could be a possibility, I suppose. But extra dimensional being seems more likely, such as our demonic friend." A beat passed before a response: "Nice save there, Giles. Thought I had you for a second." Krissy smiled at the flurry of typing that echoed immediately after.

"Are you referring to me as your butler or the character portrayed by Anthony Head on _Buffy, the Vampire Slayer?" _Feeling her face break into a grin, she finally turned, making her face serious. "That's _Jeeves, _for your information." Jesse yawned, covering his face and then massaging his temples.

"My point still stands, we have little to go on. Krissy took her seat at the mock wooden table.

"Then we need in on the other side of that apartment building. Can you get us in?"

"Like I said, my powers work best in a limited area, when I can see what I am working with, especially with a straight forward presentation."

"Straight forward? How?"

"No mirrors or multiple facets of casting in order to make the illusion convincing." She raised an eyebrow in curiosity.

"So, your reflection still looks like you?" Jesse nodded.

"Just like a monster's." A raised eyebrow and a twitch of a lip tell Krissy he doesn't take kindly to that comparison. You know what I mean; it's something to be considered. What's the deal with reflective glass?" her tone had dropped from exasperated to gregarious, as though she were doing standup. Jesse, placated, or at least not in the mood for a fight, shrugged.

"True self, revealing natures, all that jazz. Convenience, maybe?" Krissy frowned, this time without humor behind it.

"What's with you? I said I was sorry."

"Actually you didn't. But that's not what's wrong, at least not your intent." Light brown eyes stared with something akin to curiosity. "Before when you said, well, implied, really, that it was as though we had eyes on us, I didn't believe you."

"I know. It was ten minutes ago, Jesse." He ignored her.

"And yet…. your comment about mirrors suggests a grand scheme, doesn't it?"

"Because angels and demons don't." Jesse's eyes widened, and Krissy knew he was about to poke a hole in her logic, and be a prick about it. _We have spent too much time together._

"No, because they're basically bureaucrats with bad attitudes. They serve their bosses, and I'm not sure that's a God and Lucifer." Leaning back in her chair, hands in back of her head, she smirked.

"Sounds like a bad sitcom."

"I assure you, there is nothing funny about this."

"I said _bad_ sitcom, didn't I?"

"They're just agents following directives; the fact that it comes from a deity or fallen angel is just… happenstance."

"You lost me."

"There's no intrinsic element. No unifying theory. There is no difference between angels and demons and say, fanatical religious followers."

"_Now_ who's being critical of religion?"

"One can be critical of a religious institution without throwing the proverbial baby with the bath water."

"Speaking of infanticide, what exactly is _your_ belief system?" Krissy raised her eyebrows to show her interest was purely innocuous.

"Agnostic. I believe, but given current events, a specific religion or faith seems impractical." Krissy nodded.

"Okay, since we're chatting, question number two: The hell happened since we were "dating"?" Making air quotes, the girl stared earnestly, making no move to hide her curiosity this time.

"Pardon?" Krissy rolled her eyes.

"_That_. Talking like you're in a documentary on BBC." Jesse looked fairly impressed at the reference. Setting his papers down to give her his full attention, he grinned.

"When I was younger around the time I had my run in with the Winchesters and their…. Friend from upstairs, I had a problem controlling my powers, as opposed to being limited in them as I am now," he finished quickly, seeing Krissy open her mouth, likely to object to the contrast. "I believed everything people, namely my stepparents told me, and because of that people got hurt. And worse." Regarding him warily, although out of an attempt to not provoke him, and be sensitive,

_For once, _she thought, she asked very slowly, "How worse?" Her voice was hoarse with a sudden tension. Jesse stared back.

"You're a hunter. How much does belief come into your cases, that of innocents, I mean. That if some of the urban legends were true…"

"I'm a hunter. Most of them _are_ true."

"Some of the… 'hidden moral' elements. To stop children from playing pranks or to get them to behave."

"Still mostly true, Jesse." It was the second time she had called him by his first name, as he seemed to respond positively to the first time. Jesse smirked.

"I mean things like the tooth fairy and…" Jesse's smile vanished. He averted his eyes. Krissy waited, assuming he would build back his confidence. After a few moments however, she took a chance and tapped the table in front of him. Jesse looked up, his eyes misted over; not tearing but damn well near.

"C'mon now," she plied, in a voice she gathered would be as close to a big sister as she could manage without actually being one. "It's not like you killed anyone." Jesse head dropped roughly.

"Oh, Jesus. What the hell happened?" her tone must have lost its gentleness, because his head shot up, eyes wet and angry.

"You've killed before too, I'm sure of it." His voice low and menacing, and the intent to be cruel pushed Krissy back, having to fight the urge to narrow her eyes and start a fight, where there didn't need to be one.

"Monsters, yes. In the heat of the moment. Once." That last bit was added with some softness, as though she were ashamed. "I'm guessing, yours was accidental. School friend, babysitter."

"I didn't know them." Krissy blinked at the word them, but the fact that he didn't know them relaxed, even against her better judgment. "What happened?" His voice broke the quiet so suddenly it almost hurt not to jump.

"My abilities occupy a radius. My beliefs directed their force. That force caused several electrocutions and a girl to scratch her scalp out because of joy buzzers and itching powder. The damn things don't even have a power source, t-they couldn't do anything, and I was s-so _stupid _to think that and believe what I did… I didn't even check it, Krissy. Why didn't I make sure?" Krissy froze, not sure if the question was rhetorical or not. Jesse's gaze indicated it was not.

"Because," she began, unsure, "you were a kid, right? Kids don't conduct investigations of what things are, they just accept them." Jesse tried to hide the action of wiping his eyes.

"I fail to see you that naïve, at any age." A smile told her it was a compliment, meant to preserve some of his dignity.

"Yeah well, maybe I was just a smartass. Is that why you've been so hesitant to accept this is a case? What, you were afraid of getting carried away… and what you think would become reality?" The possibility only occurred to her now, and seemed plausible. Scarily so.

"Welcome to my life." A dry chuckle was the last sound before an uncomfortable silence, and Krissy found great interest in the swirls of the faux wood finish of the table. Searching for something to say only adds to the desperation, and Krissy resigns herself to the quiet, better to sink rather than to struggle when drowning, and this silence feels just like that.

It's over when Jesse throws her a preserver, in the form of a joke.

"Made you talk to Jesus." Jesse said in a small voice, not looking up from papers he has no interest in. Krissy chuckles, Jesse looks up, and they began to work again.

"As powerful as you are, I think it's a stretch to say their responsible. I'm guessing your range doesn't include international coverage?"

"I'm a cambion, not a cell phone plane."

"But still…"

"It feels good to check, Krissy." She nods ands looks through a stack of weather reports. "But."

"Yeah?"

"But maybe, the time fore feeling good….is over?"

"Is that a question or a statement, Turner?"

"We're on last name basis now?"

"If you're going to be a half ass and it gets you to go in all the way, yeah, I guess we are."

"While I don't believe that emulating the relationship of drunken frat boys on a beer run is ideal, I suppose we should find our angel?"

"Strangest scavenger hunt I've ever seen, shortest too."

"Good to know you're on board, Krissy."

The second time Kate ran her fingers over her canines, sure that that she would feel two long fangs in their place, she heard the distinctive rumble of the Monte's engine, but only turning away from the windows she gazed at when Jacob opened the passenger door, hitting her in the leg.

"Staring is impolite, you know."

"I think we have company." Jacob frowned.

"Okay, Horatio. What does that mean?"

"A hunter, Jacob" He paused, and then shifted to gaze at the building.

"Where?"

"Inside." Jacob rolled his eyes.

"I'm gonna need a little bit more information, like a floor, or a name." Kate threw up her hands.

"How am I supposed to know?!"

"How do you know it's a hunter?"

"Cause he stared at me for a while." There was a beat of silence and Kate leaned into the car, expecting a response.

"Okay, maybe _mommy_ didn't tell you, but guys sometimes look at pretty girls. Do you need me to explain that 'funny feeling in your tummy' too?" Kate sneered.

"Like he knew something was up, and he was pretending to be an agent." Jacob still wasn't convinced.

Most federal agents are suspicious. Especially when you're trying to pull a Chloe Sullivan."

"Who?" Kate asked, frustrated.

Reporter from _Smallville_, the whole prequel to _Superman_?" Kate blinked.

"I thought that was Lois Lane?"

"No, in the television series, she's her cousin, and- listen that's not the point! Just because some guy gives off the creeps, doesn't make him a hunter. All hunter's are creepy, but not all creeps are hunting, or something like that?"

"So how do you tell creepy from hunter?" Jacob stumbled for words.

"Well…. A gut instinct, I suppose."

"Like mine." It wasn't a question. Jacob hung his head in defeat.

"Yes."

"So maybe he has some info on your guys?"

"They're not my- well, actually…that's a good point." He brightened considerably, grinning.

"So lets find him, then." Enthusiastically, Jacob bounded out of the car, passing her, only stopping when he noticed Kate wasn't following him.

"Come on; this was your idea." He waved her over. Kate stayed where she was. "What?"

Raising an eyebrow, she asked: "You think I'm pretty?" Jacob rolled his eyes and continued to the side entrance, and darted inside, a grinning Kate following soon after.

"I take it back."

"Take what back?"

"_This_ is the worst part of hunting, not leg work."

"I believe this is especial to our case, no.

"Still, I hate it the most. I'm not actually pregnant. Can't we go up the damn stairs faster?  
Lily and Thomas Penderghast, of whose last name Krissy and Jesse argued for forty-five minutes the exact spelling, were currently making their way to view their first house as a married couple, ready to put a deposit down if the apartment 'clicked' for them, ready to put down a _sizable_ deposit, should that happen.

Jesse had said all of that over the phone, explaining to the real estate agent that they were currently occupying a hotel, as they were from out of town, using that exact phrasing, prompting Krissy to remark in a hushed shout, "She gets it already; we're hipsters! Enough of the shtick, already!"

Culminating in the first time that Jesse used his abilities on someone else, at least on purpose, Jesse was apprehensive.

"Ready?" Jesse stared, as Krissy had outstretched her arms, tilted her head back and shut her eyes.

"It's not like a spray tan, you know. It's not going to burn if you get it in your eyes, or actually get in your eyes."

"Look this is your deal and I'm just along for the ride."

"About that….would it not be possible for me to go alone, and merely pose as an interest for the apartment? This seems unnecessarily risky."

"You have no experience in determining the best vantage point, or how to react in a crisis. I do. But I need you to get in the front door, as much as it pains me to admit. So come on now; do-do that voodoo you do so well." Although her eyes were closed, she grinned widely, imagining Jesse's scowl.

"Very well. But would you kindly…._open your eyes_!" This last bit was yelled directly into her ear, which was followed by laughter as she flinched away.

"React in a crisis, huh?"

Jesse had managed to perfect the illusion, to which, from her point of view, fit in somewhat like a picture becoming clearer on a website, the fuzzy images settling. Thing was, though, there was no template; the images had no origin, and the materialization shifted not from distortion, but grayscale, amorphous lines becoming something else. Keeping at about Krissy's height, Jesse altered her hair color to a deeper chestnut, almost burgundy in color, and shifted her eyes to a duller brown, and she thought maybe, for a second, that Jesse was shifting the vibrancy of her eyes into her hair, and had a small panic attack. Managing to swallow it, she squeezed her eyes shut; both of them deciding it was best after Krissy had caught his eye and nearly lost his concentration.

"Eyes shut from now on?" Jesse nodded.

"Agreed."

Finally, he added one more attribute, of which Krissy was livid and frustrated the most by. Apparently Lilly and Thomas were starting a family, and had a good start, with 'Lily' about six months along, and Thomas needing to help her along stairs and such.

"No, we can not go up the stairs faster. You're pregnant, remember? Pregnant women do not rush up stairs. They are assisted by gentlemen, _slowly_." Krissy, or rather, Lily, shook her head

"Seventeen and pregnant. How lovely."

"Perhaps you could get a show, then. Besides, you're _twenty nine_ and pregnant, and I am your thirty two year old husband. You work as a graphic design editor at a small indie magazine and I work as an architect for a small firm. Back story is important, _Ms. Penderghast_."

"Then you should have made it less craptacular, _Mr. Penderghast_." Krissy blinked. "FMI,-"

"FMI?"

"_For my information_. Hell, even I'm not up on computers and I know some short hand. Anyway, what's my maiden name?"

"Come again?"

"Maiden name. In case they ask, because if I don't know, it won't matter how good your handiwork is."

"I'm sure they won't ask."

"It could come up in conversation."

"Doubtful. We're a couple. Who asks that to a married couple?"

"Someone who's sure acquiring the name Penderghast is but one down side of marrying _you."_

"Oh, I don't know….._Elison_? Is that up to your standards?"

"Rather WASP-y, isn't it?" Jesse gave her a once over.

"Well, you are rather white. It's not as though it wouldn't fit."

"I'll have you know I'm one-eight Cherokee." Jesse stopped.

"You're pulling my leg, aren't you?"

"Yes and your complete lack of a sense of humor makes you the perfect target."

Finally reaching the top of the staircase, the two headed to the end of the hallway to a small display, replete with transparent balloons, a guest sign in sheet and a few other couples touring the premises already.

"I guess your little 'I'm a rich hipster with a baby on the way' speal didn't work, huh?" Jesse merely grinned as the agent, dressed in a pantsuit, strolled over as fast as possible, without breaking the relaxed gate, smiling very largely.

"Never say never, my stumpy friend." Krissy glared and opened her mouth to retort.

"Oh fu-" She sublimated her glare into a smile just as the Realty agent neared. A few hand shakes and even bigger smiles later, the two were showed around the rather large apartment, almost identical to the one she had seen when pretending to be a social worker.

On the way to a kitchen with actual granite countertops, which were very important for some reason, Krissy managed a look out the window, and Lily froze.

"Um, Thomas? You have just _got_ to come see this view." Trotting over, _Thomas_, scruffy beard and flannel shirt adorned, and stared out a panel window.

"It's…very nice, Lily." He gave her a look.

"The ivy, it's so picturesque, don't you think, so interesting that it stops growing right on _that_ floor." Lily, now agitated, pointed to where the plant along the brick wall stopped, the rest of it beginning again on the floor above it.

"Oh! Yes very interesting."

"Are you an amateur horticulturist?" Lily/Krissy swiftly spun around, slightly startled by the agent's inquiry.

"Uh, no, actually. Just curious about _that_ plant. It's an odd shape to grow in, isn't it?" Glancing out the window, the agent took in the sight.

"A storm, I suppose. Really, it could be anything." Seeming eager to change the subject, the agent's smile turned to a frown as a young man strolled up next to them.

"I heard, just a rumor now, some freaky things been going on over there." Jesse/Thomas raised an eyebrow.

"How so?"

"Freaky stuff," the man repeated, before he elaborated. "Large groups praying in the middle of the night and something about a kid, I'm not sure what, but it's weird. I mean, nothing strange over _here_, but still." Jesse turned in the direction of the man to see a woman roughly the same age carefully taking stock of the situation, without looking directly at them.

"Hmmm. How odd." Lily observed the agent appear even more crestfallen, to the amusement of Krissy. Turning to the woman, Jesse made Thomas's face split into a wide grin.

"Sound's homey. We'll take it."

"Use my nose?" Kate was incredulous. Jacob was exasperated.

"Yes. You're a werewolf." Looking around secretively, he continued. "You have an acute sense of smell. Like a bloodhound."

"And what the hell do you have, exactly? You're a fox, or something like it. So shouldn't you have the same abilities?"

"No it's a bit different, Kitsune are spirits in folklore because of our ties to the animal; a werewolf is just a manifest of a more primal human condition, smell being one of the most visceral connections. Point is: you can track, I can't, and we don't have all day, so, after you." He points down the hallway. Kate allowed her sense of smell to overtake her, and realized that the world is a horrible place.

Really, she did feel differently towards even what was familiar, but hadn't had a chance to adjust; after all, her diet had been animal hearts, and it didn't occur to her that the awful, but sating taste was due to her new abilities rather than her old sensibilities. Several scents overwhelmed her at once: lingering detergent and bleach, unidentifiable food stuffs, aftershave, and the warm humid scent of bodies, including her own.

_That last one, before the bodies… _Kate shuddered and closed her eyes. She could remember aftershave, rather a lot of it on the agent, and if she remembered carefully, while he wasn't covered in facial hair, he had a five o'clock shadow that was coming along nicely. Why would he have aftershave on if he didn't shave?

_Because he hasn't showered. _Kate wrinkled her nose in disgust, her greater understanding of what she was encountering impacting her. Jacob had told her that the hunters, as a group, were generally nomadic, and moved a lot, which would support this behavior. Unkempt, but good at hiding it. The aftershave was strong enough, that given the copious amounts used, it was distinguishable from the other faint perfumes and aerosols. Kate lumbered down the hall, keeping her back almost parallel to the floor, intent on keeping the scent.

"I don't think he slid across the floor. You can stand up." Kate grinned sheepishly.

"Sorry. Newbie at this, remember?" Jacob nodded, patience etched across his face.

"You also don't have to sniff like that. It's sort of an automatic thing. Not a big thing, but I don't want him knowing we're here before we want him to, okay?" Kate shook her yes, and went back to breathing normally, only slightly apprehensive now, of being aware of regarding the world in this way.

Following the scent down the corridor, they edged along the stone, keeping their backs pressed against the wall. Jacob thought it best not to inform Kate of the possibility of something _coming through_ the wall. A growl bubbled from the blond and Jacob froze. They were at a crossroads of sorts; two hallways bisecting each other, and apparently their quarry was waiting for them around the bend.

In order to get her attention Jacob laid a hand, reluctantly, on the nineteen year- old's mid section, blushing a bit, but remembering that it was better than getting ripped in half, should he surprise her. Seeing the hand Kate met his gaze and allowed herself to be pushed behind him, slowly, and a little bit miffed that the boy thought her to be dangerous, mixed with a bit of smugness at being considered _competent_ enough to be dangerous. Claws drawn, and eyes a faint yellow gold, nearly green in the darkness, Jacob stalked towards the bend, Kate pressed behind him, which was only _slightly_ distracting.

_Focus, horndog, _Jacob chastised himself. The turn was just a line now, a y-axis and Jacob was hesitant to cross it, literally caught between a rock and a hard place, with Kate edging him closer, unaware of the Kitsune's reluctance, and his want not to kill the (possible) hunter that lay in wait, and fearful he might lose control, and dishonor his mother's wishes. Deciding that waiting was leaving them exposed, Jacob whipped around the corner and hit low, hoping to avoid a drawn knife or gun.

Save for an overcoat, in a pile, the bypass was empty. Kate's head snapped towards a custodial closet, the creak of it's hinges alerting her before they did Jacob. A hollow echo vibrated around them as Kate charged the metal door, slamming it hard as the false agent attempted to slip past. The door swung shut, but instead of a hard, metal on concrete plaster connection the momentum ended flatly, save for a distinct crunch that caused her stomach to lurch. All her limbs however were fine, and Jesse had stopped short, attempting to pull her back. Looking at the door jamb, Kate backed up upon seeing the man crumble to the floor, using the hand that wasn't broken at the wrist to stop from hitting the floor, face contorted in pain.

"Fuck… I'm getting too old for this…." The words drifted off into a loud hiss as the man's wrist twitched, attempts to keep it still impeded by the massive amount of pain he was in, so much so that throwing up seemed to feel better than sex at the moment.

Lee figured that his rotator cuff was shattered, and the nerve likely pinched. If this set the wrong way, he'd be fucked.

And the… girl… may be two or three years older than his own, was… laughing. It took all of three seconds, like an eternity to Lee, to figure out the laugh was not malicious. Rather, it was light and cheery, almost too much so.

It took Kate all of four seconds, although it seemed instant to realize she was having a nervous break down, or some mild stress induced hysteria, and found the Murdock line hilarious, although she had never seen the movie.

It took Jacob no time at all to realize how surreal this all was. He had avoided killing a hunter who-judging from the knife in his good hand, silver, was more than prepared to spare them no such mercy, and the one who broke his wrist into a useless swell of flesh and bone was laughing at…. Something about a movie. The same individual who self ascribed to _newbie_.

Kate stopped laughing as Lee made a move for his knife. Only slightly awkwardly, and still a little giggly, she managed to kick the blade away, although Jacob doubted it was much of a threat. Not sure what to do now and acutely aware that Kate seemed frozen yet again, Jacob decided to break the silence.

"Who are you?" Simple enough question. _Granted, a pointless one; Kate kicked the knife, and he knows we've been tracking him through smell-_he turned toward the coat that was designed to lure them away from his hiding spot-_he knows what we are. _Jacob wasn't getting a response, in any case. _This guy's a professional._ He decided on a different route.

"How did you know about us?" This got a response out of the man.

"Please. You have it written all over you. Big sis here teaching a young pup like you how to feed?" Jacob blinked. Slightly deflated, he thought, _Then again, maybe I giving him too much credit…_

But this was good. They could play upon his ignorance and get some information, work him over-

"We're hunters, like you." Kate stated.

_Well, forget that then._ Jacob rolled his eyes in exasperation at Kate's bluntness. Then he paused.

Never had he considered himself a hunter. In fact, the reason tracking and dispatching that ghost had been so easy, was because of his firm roots in the community of creatures- this hunter after all, a prime example of what assumptions and theory and deductions got one, and how it was inferior to his own experiences.

"Actually, considering present circumstances we're better." Kate scowled at him.

"Jacob!"

"Well, it's the truth."

"Not helping."

"He wants to kill us. I'm sure I didn't hurt the situation, either." A heavy sigh caused the both of them to turn to the hurt hunter.

"Forget what I said; you two fight like an old married couple. Rather young for you, don't you think?" Lee jerked his head in the direction of Jacob, and Kate blushed.

"He's not my-" Jacob growled.

"He's just screwing with you." Taking a long stride towards the man, who braced himself, searching for an opening to defend himself. Jacob, his plan's to use surprise as leverage differed, not defeated, held his hand in front of him, although at a safe distance- no reason to be foolish-and let his claws slide out. As a juvenile, they were smaller than they ought to be, but still just as large as his mother's- kitsune, like most non-siring creatures, exhibited sexual dimorphism; although rather minor, maybe an in inch or two difference in length, slightly stronger than the female sex in certain areas- who rarely displayed her fox traits. Jacob had in fact only seen them once- when she was stressed, trying to open some small package or another-and for the rest of the day looked guilty about it for the rest of the day, whether for losing control or doing so because she was seen by her son.

In the dim light of the waning sunlight, the claws seemed to glow fuchsia.

"Do I look like a 'pup' to you?" Lee returned Jacob's glare and Kate's apprehensive gaze with a weary stare.

_I should have stayed home…._

"Okay, so what inhibits plant growth?" Jesse frowned.

"Well, nothing I heard of that comes from angels. However…." Krissy returned the frown.

"However, what?" She could almost feel him beginning to unravel her theory, with the clue _she_ had noticed.

"Tesla lights." Krissy's face skewed into a confused scowl.

The climbing ivy had been facing an opposite wall, and only from a adjacent window, could they see how the ivy stopped in one place, but with the rest of the plant clearly having crossed that space, but a portion having _died_. For some reason that sent chills down Krissy's spine, despite all the things she had seen; apparently this was creepy not horrific. The latter she was inoculated against, the former set her off, reminiscent of how unlike vampires and other monsters, there were still unexplained things in the world of hunting.

"I know that nothing will grow where black magic has been performed, or a curse has been set, but that's usually for graves, and deals with resurrection. I haven't seen this personally, but I've heard stories, and in my… our line of work, that's as good as it gets."

"I believe you're on the right track. Take a look at this." Jesse and Krissy, as their bohemian turned suburban couple in the city personae, Lily and Thomas, had brought their reading material, Jesse assuring her that the oddities in the literature would nor raise any eyebrows, as many in the city had interest in or practiced even, the occult or had odd ideas about the supernatural, ideologically treating them as the source of evil or scholastic interest. Krissy took the book- a dog eared anthology of literature, opened to-

"_Frankenstein_?" Jesse cocked his head.

"I prefer _The Modern Prometheus_, if you please. It's more apt." Krissy nodded absently, turning to look at the book more closely, seeing Jesse's reference illustrated in the page before the start of the novel's section. The ribbed bulbs, lightening crackling between them at various intervals.

"I get the connection to resurrection from F- _Prometheus,_ but what's so special about the lights?" Jesse smiled and took the thick tome back across the table, rescued from a trash bin, as Jesse advised that much could be found on the streets if one were willing to look. Krissy had made a crack about him being experienced at dumpster diving, which had come out unexpectedly soft, almost sympathetic, to which Jesse grinned and related some experience of finding a treasure trove of books that were frayed and being sold at pennies on the dollar, back in Australia. This had led to a brief conversation that was almost akin to shooting the breeze, if Krissy was inclined to admit. Which she wasn't. Not yet, anyway.

"These lights are special effects, in the original book, such things were absent; they're movie magic, you see. What Victor Frankenstein was after in Mary Shelley's novel, which came to her in a dream, by the way, " Jesse added that, it seemed for effect, "was the ability to _transcend death_." Krissy thought that if a peal of thunder cracked behind her, she would have jumped six feet. The hint of creepiness had grown stronger, into unease. She wasn't afraid, she was worried.

She'd be stupid not to.

"Alchemy." She whispered it, because if Jesse was right, things were going to get out of hand.

"A girl after my own heart. Maybe we _should_ date, then." Jesse's grin beamed, the first time she had ever seen him smile that wide, like a kid.

And, this time she couldn't respond. She tried anyway. "I bet you say that to all the girls you fake impregnate." Her smirk didn't reach her eyes. Jesse stared. "Are you feeling alright?"

"Why?" Krissy shrugged, ass if she didn't know what he meant.

"You look….. _Frightened_." He settled on the word, almost wincing.

"I am not afraid!" Her voice seemed to echo in the mostly empty apartment, making her feel more self conscious.

"Of course not. You don't have to be afraid to be frightened. It's a natural response to the unnatural."

"I am not 'frightened' either, Jesse. I just…"

"Bad experience?" Krissy scoffed.

"_No_ experience, actually. That's the problem. _Anything_ could happen."

"Well, you realized what we're dealing with, same as I did. You must have some understanding."

"All I know are stories. That goes for vamps and werewolves and others but, it's pretty much obvious when you're dealing with one or the other and what to do. But this is a grab bag of weird. The closest I've heard is some hunters who disappeared fifteen years back and were rumored to be hunting a homunculus, although it could have been a golem, or something called an _ushbati…" _Jesse nodded.

"_Ushabti_. That's a small totem placed in Egyptian tombs to serve the pharaoh, or upper-class Ancient Egyptians in the afterlife as tireless workers."

"Okay, the more you know, but the point is we don't know what we're dealing with." Jesse made a face.

"Don't be so sure. We've pretty much narrowed it down to alchemy and chaos magick- creation and animation spells and creatures. If we know that, than we can figure out a variety of solutions to adapt to a limited set of possibilities."

"I don't think it that's simple. Alchemy means organization. An organization means more than one, and a lot smarter than a pack of Werewolves or a nest of vamps- likely people with a goal in mind. I mean, are we even sure our friendly neighborhood prayer vigil aren't in on it?" Jesse pursed his lips. "I'd just like to be in control of the situation, as much as possible. I get in our line of work that's not possible, but at least we should check out all our players." Jesse checked his watch.

"Looks like we'll be seeing them shortly."

"Okay, Kitsune. That makes a difference, how?" Jacob took his hand out of Lee's face.

"It shows you're not as smart as you think you are. So, now that we've established that, let's talk. You have a name?" A pause.

"Lee." It couldn't hurt, if they had his first name. Besides, they could finish him off if they felt like it, and they hadn't yet, so maybe they wouldn't.

"No last name?"

"It's like Cher's. Jacob stared.

"Really? You _are_ young.

"Why are you here?

"See, if you're hunters, you're here for the same reason I am. Seems pointless to answer that question, doesn't it?"

"We _are_ hunters." Kate interjected. "We're here for the 'magic' marble, same as you."

"What good is that to a werewolf and a _kitsune_?"

"So that is what you're here for."

"Doesn't seem like anything malevolent. That is until you two show up." Lee tried to stand up, but a fresh wave of pain through his arm sat him back down. Jacob was tired of this.

"Listen. We're letting you live as a courtesy." Granted, it was a courtesy for his mother and Kate's sensitivity, but he didn't need to know that. "All we want is information. Do you know Sam and Dean Winchester?" Looking the teenager in the eye, Lee responded: "Who?"

Jacob sighed. It was ridiculous to assume that hunters all knew each other. For all he had heard, hunters generally kept to themselves at best, and were openly hostile to others at worst.

"He's lying." Kate was staring intently at the injured man. Jacob turned to her, and then back to Lee.

"How do you know?"

"His…scent…I don't know…._changed_, like he was sweating more." Jacob frowned deeply. For some reason, as expected as it was that he would be lied to, the combined impact of being disappointed, having to have Kate reveal this rather than realize on his own and the irritation of being judged for what he might do, and really wanting to do it. Jacob no longer trusted himself, frustrating him further.

He stepped away. "He needs a hospital. Let's call one and leave." Kate paused.

"Don't you want to….?"

"I can't. I'll just do something I'll regret."

Outside, while Kate called for an ambulance, Jacob stared at his reflection in one of the windows of the Monte. Seeing two golden eyes glare back at him, he shoved his still extended claws into the glass, relishing the screech of glass on keratin, pulling out and leaving five holes arranged in the shape of a spiral.

"I've got something. I think." Krissy squinted at the screen.

The two had been screening church websites to find a link to what Krissy had called 'their own personal Jesus'. Jesse failed to get the joke, and she prohibited him from checking, as time was short until the vigil would return, at sundown every night whenever that was; apparently the group had been showing up before the days had grown longer.

Krissy had found everything from research type centers that looked like churches and vice versa, to meaga-churches and houses of worship that advertised 'funky fresh' ways of interpreting scripture. She wasn't especially religious, but she was sure that was blasphemy. It wasn't until Jesse suggested they look up local churches that something of value came up.

"How'd you know?"

"These people do not seem concerned with the political effects of their actions. It is unlikely that an influential church would allow them to continue their actions."

"Well, it seems that the _Church of God's Love _has a message board, and in that message board, people have been making comments about the Christ child, and the possibility of the Second Coming."

"Does it list a leader?" Krissy stifled a yawn and scanned the page.

"Renaldo Francis, he's been the reverend for some three years now, according to the description. Why?" _I do not want more legwork. _She kept her voice neutral; while she didn't want to go and talk to the head of religious fanatics she neither wanted to be a burden, or let Jesse know she cared that she would be one.

"I want to go and talk to him to see if we can glean anything from him, maybe see if this is a new phenomenon or something he tried to stop.

"I'll come with then."

"No. Stay here get some rest and keep watch. I know it seems like the angels won't show, but they have a habit of surprising you when you would least expect it. The door is covered, as are the walls. And please, don't be a hero if something does go down. I may actually need your help, and if you go and die on me, well that would inhibit that wouldn't it?" Krissy remained silent and Jesse took this as acceptance. He began to leave.

"Hey." He stopped. Krissy hated to have to say it, and wouldn't if Jesse had been more convincing that his going alone was not just for her sake. But she was grateful, and she was honest. "Thanks." Jesse nodded, and closed the door behind him.

The church was more of a nondescript building, with a large possibly bronze alloy made sign that held the title, and proclaimed its goals: _faith, healing, and serenity_. Inside, crushed velvet and armchairs, slightly musty, gave the place an odd feel, so like a church, but without meaning to be so in that way of incense and fabrics and crystal that spoke to the majestic and the past, rather than God and the future. A man stepped out, deep tan, suit that was almost a tuxedo, called to the front by a ringing of bells above the door jamb.

"Can I help you, my son?" He smiled, but looked warily at Jesse, as himself; he didn't think a disguise would be necessary.

"Yes, please. I'm looking for information on Mitch Dunham. I've heard people here might know of him." The man paled.

"Well, you might be mistaken, our congregation does not deal with such preposterous things as 'magic children'." The man of the cloth waved his hand dismissively. Jesse raised his eyebrows.

"So you have heard of him, then?" The Reverend sighed.

"Yes, and I wish I never had." Jesse frowned with curiosity, attempting to get the whole story.

"How do you mean?"

"My son, this is a place of God. I believe in miracles as much as the next person, perhaps even more so. But that belief is based on faith, not on proof. There is a profound difference."

"I take it that not everyone in your flock agrees." Reverend Francis nodded, than raised an eyebrow.

"Why so curious, my boy?"

"Because, it seems….wrong. Especially with a little child." Jesse believed the morality of the situation would speak the most to the Reverend. The man nodded. Jesse had been proven right.

"Some of my followers think that to deny a miracle, is to deny God."

"Is it?"

"No."

"Why?" The man looked down.

"The hardest thing, to believe in God? That not everything is of His will."

Lee waited patiently as the doctor listed all the potential side effects of the pain medication he was on, and now had a prescription for, under the name Kent Clarkson. Lee had a thing for superheroes. His hand had been set and was in a metal and fiber cast, to keep his fingers from moving. As it turned out he _only_ had a severe fracture and if it was kept still, would heal with minimal difficulty, still the doctor remarked that it was odd that he hadn't blacked out from the pain.

"I had some help." _Being interrogated by a werewolf and a Kitsune has some benefits_, he supposed. Mildly buzzed, he decided to call a cab, and then call it a day, head back to his safe house. In the parking lot, swaying slightly, with a knowing smile, despite the fact that he knew really nothing, swept his eyes across the parking lot, and then paused.

Amid the newer models, a dingy, banged up Chevy Monte Carlo sat some distance away. It wasn't a car you would see here. _A hunter's car_, he thought, amused. Strolling over, casually, or as he was partially aware, drunkenly, until he was right by the car, seemingly empty. Lee knocked on the roof.

"Hey, Turner. Hooch. I know you're in there, I just….Want to talk, okay?" A moment of silence passed, and Lee frowned. It dawned on him that he could be mistaken, but that thought was slow and really, even if he was stoned, he could still follow his instincts.

Jacob and Kate stared from across the parking lot.

"How did he know that was our car?" Kate seemed incredulous, despite Jacob being the one feeling his frustration bubble over into rage. The hunter found their car, and to add insult to injury did so while hopped on pain killers.

"He says he wants to talk, and he, um, looks a little doped up."

"I heard, and I'm aware."

"Do you think we should-"

"No."

"You wanted to follow him, and now that he's come forward, you lose interest?"

"I wanted to see if he would lead us to the Winchesters, and he didn't. So now I'm done with him."

"You're so dismissive. That's you're problem. If he wants to talk, maybe we can get our…" Jacob turned to face her.

"What?" Kate seemed uneasy. For the little she knew about the world of the supernatural, she figured that this was not a good sign.

"Wings."

"Birds?" He asked quizzically. Kate shook her head.

"Bigger. Much bigger."

"So it looks like we're dealing with a splinter cell here." Krissy turned from the table to stare out the window as the sun began to set.

"Yeah well, you better get her quickly…." She felt a shifting of the air behind her. Not turning around, she sighed into the cellular. "You're behind me, aren't you?" Walking in front of her he grinned. Still on the phone, he spoke,

"You did say quickly, didn't you?" Krissy opened her mouth to respond to the wise crack, realized she was still on the phone, and put it down in a huff. Jesse shut his own and turned to stare out the window.

"Almost sundown."

"Yeah." Krissy let go of a breath that seemed to be sitting on her chest.

"Why are we nervous, again?" Jesse smiled a small smile.

"We may get our answer, and encounter the angels as well. You ready?"

"I suppose so."

"You _suppose_?"

"It's best not to make promises and assurances in this line of work, don't you think?" Krissy was silent for a moment, but then shook her head.

"This is the best time to make promises and assurances."

"And why is that?"

"Because, you can look like an honest person if you follow through and if you don't… you'll likely be dead."

"Rather dark, but I see your point."

"So?" Jesse sighed.

"_Fine_. I'm ready, or at least as much as I'll ever be."

"I'll take it." Krissy looked down into the street. Outside of the apartment building across the street, a crowd had gathered, and as she had been told by Mitch's mother, were constructing a large shrine like structure, nearest she could tell. "Jesse?"

"Yes?"

"It's time." He nodded, and stuck out his hand.

"Well then. If our not so friendly celestials show up, whatever happens, this is it. It was an honor to serve with you." Jesse was trying to make a joke, but his hand shook, betraying him. Krissy took it and gave it three solid pumps. The two stood there for a moment before heading to the door.

It concerned Kate that instead of pain, she was reeling with the humiliation of being tossed into a car windshield like a piece of garbage. Then again she was beginning to get used to being able to hold her own in a fight. The ghouls she had ripped into for ripping through people's graves when she first left with Jacob, and even with that angry spirit, who didn't even have a physical form to fight against. Sure she had nearly died, and technically it had been their charge that had defeated the spirit, but still, they had been a major help.

And now this setback? It was demoralizing, to say the least. Hearing the sudden commotion around her, and realizing that Jacob was likely in a panic, as were anyone watching her get thrown like a rag doll after jumping off a car roof onto the closest of the suited men who had surrounded the hunter they knew as Lee, and whom the one closest to him referred to as 'Mr. Chambers'. _Lee Chambers is a very atmospheric name, _she thought, like a book character. Managing to pull herself off the hood of the car, falling to the floor, a dull ache echoing in its impact. From her upside down point of view, she could see one of the men coming towards her. Panic building in chest, she felt herself change, growling, not at the man but at herself. She remembered what one of the hunters, than supposed Federal agents had said: _from pure blood…. Are less feral and can transform before during and after the lunar cycle… _She was special. Perversely so, but still. It was the one thing that made her more than a victim, so stereotypically…._Hi, I'm Kate, and well, this is really hard, but in college, I was violated by a friend of my boyfriend. No, I didn't _catch_ anything…. He just turned me into a FREAKING WEREWOLF…._ Her revere was broken by the sight of Jacob attempting to engage the slow walking man, who merely stopped, took in the sight of the clawed and scowling boy, and raised his palm. A bright, unforgiving light began to emanate from somewhere between his palm and head, swallowing his pupils. Its sheer intensity motivated Kate out of her stupor, but also seemed to oppress her, until a yellow, red tinged light burst forward. The white hot light dissipated, and the man looked surprised, at least before he _shook_ and shimmied, as though he were an image on a television screen, another pulse blinding her. When she regained her sight, he and the three that had been with him were gone. Fighting the urge to collapse against the truck behind her, she stood to see Jacob scanning the parking lot stopping quickly. Following his gaze, to Lee, Lee Chambers standing against the Monte, one window smashed, the window that Jacob had shoved his claws through earlier, now embedded in the man's arm, although he didn't seem to mind, due to the pain killers, Kate guessed. On the side of the rear door, some symbol was painted- in Lee's blood, it looked like, and _smoking a little? _Lee grinned

"Sorry about your car."

Attempting to weave their way through the crowd that formed a ring around the nucleus of hymnal singing churchgoers, Jesse kept his guard up, Krissy stopped; the song was familiar to her.

_Ava Maria. _"Jesse! Over here." The boy made his way over to her and urged him to be quiet. The two listened to the disturbing, even in the open, crowded night air, melody, too heavy and solemn to even be able to be called that.

"That's not a tribute to a Christ Child it's…."

"A tribute to the mother," Jesse finished. "What are you thinking?"

"All this time, we've been focusing on Mitch, assuming that his mom was nervous because the father was… different." Jesse slapped a palm to his forehead. "Occam's Razar, of course!" Krissy stared, bemused.

"A logical constant that the simplest explanation is usually the best; we made the situation more complicated than it was." Swallowing the panicky feeling that they had screwed up, a quick glance around assuring her that no angel was bearing down on them, only the wind, Krissy set to work. Raising her voice above the din of the wind rushing through the trees now, she said, "So what could we be dealing with if it's the mom?"

"It does not limit our possibilities in the slightest, I'm afraid," he said, almost shouting to be heard. Krissy's frustration peaked.

"What is with the damn wind all of a sudden?"

"A storm, it looks like."

"A what?"

"A storm!" A peal of bright lightning flashed and a thunder boomed mercilessly, causing both of them to flinch, and Krissy to notice that the vigil were still singing, as though they could even be heard in the roar of wind and thunder. Like they were in a trance. Krissy stared, relenting in intensity only as another thunder clap caused her legs to shake, it was just _so_ loud. Steadying herself, she pulled Jesse close and spoke in his ear, "We need to get inside," pointing to the Dunham residence. The place having been cleared due to the raging storm, and the choir unaware of anything going on about them, no one saw the two begin to climb the fire escape.

Meanwhile, Kate was attempting to pick glass out of Lee's arm, as Jacob took down the symbol on the side of their car, before wiping down the coagulated blood with a damp towel, feeling oddly like a true car owner at this moment, considering he was cleaning body fluids off a smashed car that was stolen from being hot wired when he shoved five claws into the dashboard. Pocketing the scrap of paper, he returned to the car in time to hear Kate ask, "So, is blood for dramatic effect, or just don't like sharpies?"

"Blood's required for the banishing sigil."

"Uh-huh. And you banished what, again?"

"Angels. Celestials. God squad."

"Angels look like accountants now? I like Neil Gaiman as much as the next girl, but it seems a bit easy."

"Easy." The word was said with a tone of evaluation.

"Like a comic book, _Constantine_, you know; very first year college interpretation of the bible." Jacob snorted. Both turned to look at him.

"You're reviewing the legitimacy of Angels?"

"No, just their fashion sense." A moment paused and all three laughed, which felt good, until Jacob remembered they were in mixed company. Deciding against more pointless smart remarks and bad one liners, the Kitsune asked, to no one in particular, but with only one person logically in mind, "Do we need to leave? Banished isn't dead."

"No. Banished means a few days of dealing with the repulsion, I think. And they won't be back anyway, knowing we can banish them."

"Speaking of death, is there a way to kill them?" Both Jacob from his perch leaning on the door of the Monte, and Lee in the back seat looked at her with surprise. "What, these things almost killed us. It's not like we're attacking unprovoked." She scratched her arm awkwardly, looking down. Lee broke the silence.

"Well, yeah, but unfortunately, they're the only ones who have it: Angel blades."

"Which would be a blade an angel carries, right?" Lee nodded at the blonde.

"Sorry, it's just that it seems things get needlessly complicated."

"How do we get one?"

"Now, if I knew that, I wouldn't be on the run from them, now would I?" Jacob raised his eyebrows, and glanced at Kate, who stared looked back at Lee warily.

"What did you do that angels are after you?" Lee sighed.

"Look you just saw- they're not the good guys, okay? I was…. Just trying to keep someone safe wwho had gotten into trouble, the angels wanted to deal with that and hey, I was just as shocked as you about Angels even existing, never mind wanting to hunt my ass down."

"So angels what? Protect, preserve…"

"They're dicks, is what they are and bringing wrath is what they do. God's hit men, basically. Very judgmental, very trigger happy."

"How'd you avoid them up till now?"

"They are ways, just like banishing to get rid of angels, keep 'em out. Signs that keep them from entering. That sort of thing." Lee examined his hand, dressing the wounds, making sure they were glass free, only slightly awkwardly to the lack of dexterity in the other.

"So now we need an angel blade." Lee smirked.

"_We_ don't need anything. This is my problem. I'll get the blade and deal with them."

"Because you did such a great job back there right?" Jacob slid into the drivers seat, starting the car. Lee balked at a boy so young driving, but remembered he himself learned to do most things for himself at a young age, and driving would have been one of them if he had needed to. Wasn't rough, or anything, just less rules and less fears.

"Tell you what. Surely you trust us and Kate trusts you. That should be good enough to make a deal. We help you with the angels you tell us what you know about Dean and Sam Winchester."

"Why so curious?"

"For the same reason you're being vague about who got in trouble with servants of Heaven. It's personal."

"I don't know much, but I'll tell, you, if you keep your end of the deal first."

"Now, Lee, you wouldn't be pulling a fast one on us, would you?" Jacob was feeling boisterous, and it showed. Kate shot him a look. He shrugged in response.

"I'm the one making a deal with a werewolf and a Kitsune. I think then, you can take me at my word." Jacob glared in the rearview mirror, but stayed silent, taking Lee's forced cooperation, and the promise of information, as a win.

The apartment building blocked off most of the raging storm and it's deafening roar; Krissy sighed in relief. They had broken a hall window, the storm obscuring their efforts, until they had walked down the hall.

"Those people singing, they looked like they were hypnotized, or was it just me?"

"Anyone who could keep singing in that hell must be under the influence of something."

"Now the million dollar question is what?" Jesse nodded. Stopping in front of the Orson's door, he pointed.

"Perhaps we'll find our answers in here." Jesse paused and knocked on the door. "Hello Ms. Dunham? We're checking of everything is all right. We're you're new neighbors from across the way. There's a nasty storm brewing, and we wondered if you were alright?" There was no answer.

"I doubt she's still in there," Krissy said after a moment.

"How do you know?"

"Jesse, their could be multiple creatures that fit this profile correct?"

"Yes.

"Then we should look for a creature that fits multiple profiles, right? Ham's Shaver and such and such."

"You're mispronouncing it on purpose, but your use is correct. What creature changes to fit its circumstances."

"Shapeshifter?"

"No one's died. Yet."

"Demigod?"

"Too generic."

"Tulpa?" Jesse paused. Then his eyes grew wide. Krissy glared. "What? Damn it, what is it?"

"Tulpa's are thought-forms yes?"

"Sure."

"Thought forms gain strength from the belief of others correct?"

"Yes. Point please?"

"Until a certain point, in which those who fed it become the servants and are fed _to_ it." Now Krissy's eyes widened.

"How's that?"

"Tulpas grow in power and escape their original parameters, they begin to dictate design rather than follow it. It-it becomes the system."

"Yeah, I didn't see the Matrix so you're gonna have to better, Jesse!"

"I can't. But I can show you." With that he raced up the flight of stairs, Krissy in tow.

"How are we supposed to get the angels to return after we banished them?"

"Prayer?" answered Lee sarcastically. Jacob blinked.

"It could work."

"It was a joke."

"Aware. But if the Angels can track you as easily as they did when you're not hidden, then maybe they can hear prayers too." Lee wasn't convinced.

"How?"

"Unicorn horns to relay them. I don't know. It's worth a shot." Lee couldn't argue.

"So, what we get on our knees?" That was Kate

"I really don't think it matters."  
The three of them had been sitting in the parking lot, musing over how to finally finish off the angels.

"So, you were in a nice safe place? How?"

"Sigils. Enochian, some angel language, keeps them out, like I said." Jacob thought.

"Okay, what about keeping them in?" Lee stared at him.

"In what?"

"In your as-." Jacob took a breath. "Anywhere. Here, for instance. Place the Ecohian or whatever on each side, North, West, East and South. Angel can't leave, because it can't _enter, _right?"

"Seems like that would make sense, but I'm new to this."

"Angels won't stop will they?"

"Probably not.

"So this is as close as you're gonna get, right?"

"Correct." Jacob shrugged.

"What have you got to lose?"

"My daughter." Kate frowned.

"They're after your kid?" Lee nodded.

"She a hunter too?"

"Yes. A bit better than me at it too, not afraid to go after the big fish."

"Like Angels." Another nod. Kate stared across at Jacob and Lee, wondering what a sight they made- a middle aged man, a young boy and a nineteen year old sitting in a parking lot, in a car missing windows. The lot had been mostly empty, and Kate's wounds had healed. Jacob had, however moved them closer to the exit, to avoid explaining the cracked windshield and dented hood of the truck. Suddenly a concern became apparent to her.

"Wait. Assuming something goes wrong, what happens if we need to banish them again?" _Good question_, Jacob thought.

"What happens when an immovable object meets an irresistible force?" Lee smiled. His right wrist was broken, his left arm covered in guaze, and he was buddy- buddy with two monsters. But, soon, Krissy would be safe, and she could come home, even if only for a little while.

"My guess? It's going to hurt them a lot more than it'll hurt us."

"Damn you, where are we going?" Krissy was as athletic as most people, maybe a little more so, being a hunter required it. _But this is ridiculous. _

"To the roof."

"Why?!"

"You see….every culture uses….high ground as their point….to depict….ascension…between….the Reverend and the singers….they've forced a tulpa to become…."

Jesse reached the door to the roof and pulled it open, motioning for Krissy to stay back. The girl rolled her eyes, keeping back, but to the side.

The wind was calm here, and Krissy figured that this was something akin to the eye of the storm, as Ms Orson stood ahead of them clutching a quietly sobbing Mitch Dunham.

"They won't stop," the woman said, her normal speaking voice just barely reaching there ears.

"Egregore. Jesse finished profoundly.

"Stronger than a tulpa?" Jesse nodded. _Great… _

"Who won't stop?" The woman turned then, and Krissy really wished she hadn't asked.

Milky, pupil lacking eyes seemed to stare, even if they couldn't, a slight crackling noise made the teenage hunter notice, a shifting beneath strained and pulsing skin.

"Everyone…. Talking, thinking, being… they won't leave us ALONE!" The egregore roared at the night sky, matching if not exceeding the wind's own pulsing cyclone. "I need…to make them…_quiet_."

"Okay, she's in place." Jesse and Lee prayed, as Kate ducked down the edge of the lot, ready to fill in the last of the angels wards that they had painted (using Lee's fake credit card to buy the paint) leaving but one sigil undone, so that the angels would not be unable to enter their trap, or become wise to their ruse.

Jacob had taken the opportunity to pray for his mom, he might as well, as after every precaution she had taken, she had still died. Lee prayed for Krissy, and his late wife, both sincere, yet only because they knew that any angel that would eavesdrop would meet its end. Two sets of eyes snapped open at the sound of wings beating.

From afar, Kate saw the quartet of angels arrive, and went to work, completing the hexagons that would seal the celestials in the parking lot. Two triangles, on either side of the line, one line covered by the touching triangles, the other free, enclosed the polygon, in a circle, which was inside of a larger hexagon. One on each side of the parking lot, accompanied by something that looked like a pentagon, and one that was a Coptic cross in a square, which Kate knew about from a ninth grade report on Russia.

"Ephraim, one is missing," Said the angel to the far right, and Lee smirked. For an angel, this one sounded like a child.

The one called 'Ephraim' glared. "There is nothing funny here, _mud- monkey_.

"I don't think he likes you."

"Silence, abomination."

"Nor you.

"The feeling's mutual."

"Surrender the cambion, immediately. I will not ask again."

"I'm going to say no, bub. But I appreciate the courtesy." Another angel stepped forward, and Ephraim took his place behind him.

"You do not know what you do- the cambion is innately evil. Protecting such darkness makes you complicit, as well as for all the damage it will cause." Jacob raised an eyebrow. Turning to Lee,

"See now, you left that part out." Lee swallowed nervously.

"Silen-" The angel who last spoke to them held up a hand, and the rude one, Ephraim became silent himself, although seemed to seethe.

"Yes. The cambion is dangerous. Even you must understand the threat posed to your kind, should the son of a demon rise. They will show you no mercy for your… impurities." _The way he said it_, thought Jacob, the angel must have thought _impurities_ was a nicety. _It's better than mud monkey, though. _"My name is Wyatt. I am an angel of the Lord. I seek only to remove a universal threat, unlike the hunter you've shown short sidedness in aligning with."

"Is that so?" Jacob looked at Lee, who glared back.

"It is so." Jacob looked thoughtful.

"The thing is, I'm not big on the universality of this threat. Personally, if everyone died, human, kitsune, etcetera, it would be doing me a big favor, and then really, what I wanted most, here, anyway, I would, have. And I could die happy."

From afar, Kate began to grow nervous. Why wasn't anything happening? Should she interfere? Would that make things worse? Straining her hearing, past the other conversations, the shouts, whispers nearby, and white noise, Kate caught the tail end of Jacob's speech, mouth agape. _I'm traveling with a teenage nihilist. _"Granted, that's the default setting, but still…" Kate mused to herself. She made a mental note to bring it up, maybe point out there were better things awaiting him, them, and Kate really needed him to believe that, forcing down the pangs of guilt that came with realizing, better things meant better than Michael, and she doubted that such things, or people, existed.

"And, we all have our time to go. Maybe humanity's is now. For surely, _yours_ is." Jacob's hand hovered over the banishing sigil, and Lee relaxed placing his own hand over it as well.

The one called Ephraim smirked. "Banish us again; it will make no difference. We will find you, and we will annihilate you, for the host of Heaven demands it. Then we will find the greater abomination, and we will destroy it and all its protectors, be assured."

"Let's test your theory, shall we?" Lee and Jacob slammed their hands unto the sigil, on the hood of the Monte where they sat. A distant sound of thunder rattled the asphalt below them, the Angels frowning. Ephraim cried out,

"What is thi-" The sigil shuddered, a wave of energy burst forth, engulfing the four, sending them away. Jacob, Lee and Kate only saw this, as the angels _stopped_ after reaching the boundary of the lot, which shook, a deafening _boom. _Screams echoed, and people scattered, although aside from some crumbling asphalt that had frayed and torn apart, there was no smoke, the light from the sigil and a faint glow from the angel wards grew brighter, and once more a force erupted, shattering every window in the lot, and setting off every car alarm within and as they would later learn, in a mile wide radius.

"Why now?" Krissy steeled her gaze as the egregore turned fully towards them. She felt her face falter as a large grin spread across the thought form's face.

"Everyday, my world changed. So it was for my son. For twenty years, I have bent to your perception, such a hell you can't imagine." Jesse frowned at her rhyme, realization spreading across his face.

"You were born from someone's thoughts, twenty years ago?"

"Someone who liked rhymes?" Krissy added rather flatly.

"From a story, I sprang forth, now I have a life of sorts." Setting Mitch on the ground, who crawled to a corner, the egregore tilted her head up to the sky. Sighing contently, she stretched, a dull glow emanated from somewhere behind her eyes.

"Now is a perfect time; now I'm free to be me." She laughed. "And free from those _awful_ rhymes. Really, how _shitty_ a writer do you have to be, to come up with '_Sandra, a character who can only speak in rhyme because of a tragic event_' it's such a gimmick, don't you think?" Jesse and Krissy remained silent. "Then of course, I found that _your_ creator was no different. So I decided to try my hand at it. They seem to like my style." She gestured below them.

"You're just feeding off of them." Jesse knew it was apparent, but it felt important to say. The egregore rolled her eyes, and Krissy found herself less shell shocked by the minute. When will monsters learn the more they speak the less menacing they sound? _Hopefully never._

"At least I interact with mine. Besides, I didn't ask for this; you think this the first time I've been offered godhood? Ever since the millennium, it's been harder and harder to say no. So I won't anymore."

"They don't all believe in you; Reverend Francis-"

"Who do you think _started_ this round of ascension? It's perfect. I actually have detractors. People, who don't like me, think about me, they _argue_ over me. It's flattering."

"So those power outages…."

"Were me trying to escape, and being only so lucky. But now…. You actually can support something like this on a local scale. Good for you guys." She grinned. Krissy looked at Jesse and realized that the egregore didn't know about him, how he wasn't one of the guys; that is of the human race.

"You still need a physical base to draw your power from." The thought form grinned wider.

"But not for long." Krissy slid towards the roof door.

"What about him?" Krissy nodded towards the boy curled into a ball in the corner.

"He's the reason I'm not running….

_Sometime in 2005,_

_Sandra, now known as Patricia, sat in Central Park, thumbing through a worn copy of Jurassic Park. She heard there were multiple issues with the science behind it, and hoped to make herself feel better. Sure, dinosaurs being born from frog genes was stretching the factual aspect of the discipline, but her issue was with the ultimate goal- Jurassic Park had one, she didn't._

_A shadow crossed her path, and startled, she looked up. A man, wavy brown hair, kind eyes, and a small smile looked back. An overcoat suggested some professional status, accountant, lawyer maybe._

"_Do you mind if I sit here and eat my lunch; it's breezy here, and I enjoy the breeze." _

"_The seat isn't mine, it should be fine." He gave her a slight look, and sat down anyway; she returned to her book, embarrassed when she heard a small chuckle on his part._

_After a moment of silence, he tapped her novel. She met his gaze. "Jurassic Park, huh? Kind of an odd choice, don't you think?" Patricia stared at the book, than back at him._

"_No." After a beat, "how so?" It made her carry on the conversation. He didn't look strangely at her this time._

"_It's kind of old. Plus it's ridiculous, the dinosaurs are a total macgruffin, just to move the plot along, and I don't think there is much of one, really." She grinned._

"_I guess. It's just something I picked…up." She didn't have to rhyme anymore, why? Deciding not to care, she threw caution to the wind._

"_I'm Patricia by the way." She stuck out her hand. He grinned sheepishly. _

"_Crap, where are my manners?" He took her hand. "Riley."_

"_Well, Riley, it isn't very breezy here, is it?" Riley grinned slyly _

"_Well, I still like it."_

_Sometime in 2006_

_Rubbing a barely noticeable swell in her belly, Patricia ran a brush through her long, silky hair. Riley said she had become more beautiful everyday, certainly a bit of romantics from her now husband. But she had noticed; her body became full, and curvy, her hair long, her eyes bright and sharp, but not unkind. Love certainly agreed with her, or given her condition, _Riley_ did. _

_She stopped suddenly, hearing a loud thump from two rooms over. Padding over, trying not to make a sound, she resisted the urge to call out; not knowing what was going on, it could be fatal._

_Finally reaching the den, where Riley was working, she took a breath and looked inside. She wished she hadn't._

_Riley lay, or rather was strewn, his body at odd angles on the floor. Above him, a disheveled man, clutching a razor blade, looking wildly. At her._

_He stepped forward. She shrunk back, and he began to talk, in a language she couldn't understand, although she soon recognized it as Spanish._

_Backed up against the wall, through her panic, she heard one word she understood: "Santa Maria". Like a vision, she began to comprehend the meaning of the words, but not the words themselves: _protect…the holy mother… violate….destroy the sinner and unworthy…serve the mother of Christ…_ He thought she was the Virgin Mary, could have seen her anywhere, perhaps, she figured, as she had grown lovelier, thought her to be a vision herself. He reached out to touch her, and on instinct slapped his hand away, to which he fell to the floor, repeating the same word over and over._

"_perdonar…perdonar…perdonar"_

_And then he slit his own throat._

"Forgive…forgive me. There's nothing I can for him. Maybe he'll join me…one day. But I need to leave." Krissy was back against the door now and the egregore smiled sadly. "That door locks from the inside, you can't go back; neither can I." Pulling on the door it refused to budge and Krissy cursed under her breath. Jesse grabbed her wrist from behind her back. "Get ready…." Confused for a moment, she understood when she heard a small metallic sound: the lock turning in its place. "Almost…" Jesse took a deep breath. "NOW!" Krissy pulled open the door anmd jumped as fast as she could down the first flight of stairs, slipping and falling to her knees on the landing. From her view she could see the Egregore rush Jesse, who shut the door before the thought form could reach it. Hoping Jesse would be okay, she ran down the flight of stairs. She stopped suddenly realizing she would need something to burn the physical base with, assuming she still had time to do so. Swallowing thickly, she knocked on a door, at random. To the man who answered, she said, "Hi. The wind blew the pilot light on my stove out, could I borrow something to relight it with?"

And the panic ignited within her.

Jesse smiled as the Egregore focused its non stare directly on him, growling, "What are you?"

"I'm like you; where I go, there is danger, and people I love get hurt. I'm assuming that's what happened to Mr. Dunham, why you don't use his name, but gave it to your son? Trying to keep him alive because you feel you killed him?"

"Then you might be better off following my lead. Leaving people behind sometimes is necessary. Sometimes it can be good."

"Seems like a cop out to me. We're all a little dangerous, even the humans." She took another swing at him, slamming into the door leaving a sizable dent when he teleported away. "Amazing. Your structure is reinforced by the psychic energies you absorb, and so is able to inflict damage far greater than you normally would. Fascinating." Instead of answering she simply charged, Jesse teleported, and wondered how long he could keep this up.

Jacob surveyed the damage around him. Lee groggily stood to his feet.

"We should have lured the angels away….people are hurt."

"Not as much as you would have been had they gotten their hands on you. Our deal still stands." Lee shook his head then regretted it, as a bolt of pain shot through his head. "I wasn't…."

"Wait. Where's Kate?" Lee managed a glance around. There were cracks in the asphalt and car alarms still rang, but ere beginning to be turned off. He heard someone shout about an earthquake, and was thankful for the possible cover story. The girl however, couldn't be seen. At least by him. Yellow, fox like eyes saw a crumpled form near where Kate had set their trap.

"Kate!" Jumping over the Monte, which like Jacob and Lee had been spared any disturbance because it was at the epicenter of the sigil, and neither were angels. Kate hadn't.

"Jacob, wait!" But the boy didn't listen. Not being able to run after him, the tremors had tossed him some, but the blood loss and pain medication effects were keeping him dull, in addition to the pain the was slowly searing in his arm- the pain was resurfacing. Making his way to the spot where the angels stood, he saw wing prints etched into the ground, three sets. Lee frowned. Angels leave prints? This would be harder to explain away….why only three? _There were four_-

Lee didn't have the time to finish his statement as he was thrown into a car.

"You know…not what you do….you….mud monkey!" Wyatt, or what was left of him-his, or rather, his host as Jesse had informed him, eyes were gone, leaving only crusted holes where they should be.

"Not so amicable anymore, huh?" Wyatt let out a strangled yell of fury and pulled a blade out of the sleeve of his ruined suit. It was smaller than Lee expected; he was used to the imagery of a broad sword held in the Archangel Michael's hand. This was more like a short sword or dagger. Swinging while Lee pulled himself out of the way, grazing his leg, causing him to let out a cry of pain.

"Kate. Kay-te. WAKE UP KATE, DAMN IT!" Jacob shook the unconscious blond, who stirred only after he screamed in her ear, coughing a bit, a small bit of blood dribbling from her mouth.

"What happened to the angels?" She slurred, but was comprehensible.

"They're dead. Gone. Are you okay?" Kate sat up. Wincing, she nodded.

"Yeah. I think I fell, when the tremors started? Jacob, really I'm fine, you don't need to look like that."

"Like what?"

"Like your dog just died." Kate grinned at the joke between them, and Jacob gave a watery smile. The peace was broken when they heard Lee shout in pain.

"I thought you said the angels were dead."

"They were, or gone…" Kate jumped up- Jacob was still getting used to such an execrated healing factor, at least one that didn't belong to someone that was trying to kill him.

Kate made the distance in almost no time. Seeing the weakened angel, she tried another takedown, slamming the celestial to the ground, the blade in his hand skittering across the lot. Trying to restrain the entity proved to be too much, and Kate was smacked away.

"I will….. end you" the angel said menacingly trying to stand. Lee slid over.

"No, you won't." With that he slammed the angel's blade into its chest, straight where it heart would be, where it's host's was.

"No…." The angel's protest dissolved and a bright light came forward, out of the eye socket and mouth. Lee shut his eyes on reflex, until the red behind his eyelids faded. The body lay prone, wing print set out on the ground, still, and quiet. The adrenaline fueling him ran out than and Lee laid his head down, while Kate and Jacob rushed over.

Krissy burst out of the vestibule. In one hand were some matches; in the other a lighter. Still singing, still _Ave Maria_ sounded around the storm, the sky nearly too bright to look at, that twilight color that happened during a summer storm. Attempting to light the matches proved futile, they quickly blew out. Throwing the sticks to the ground she tried the lighter, needing to get a flame, desperately wanting something to work, for once. It took a few tries, but she managed to get it lit and shielded the flame. Looking around for a connection, all she saw was the singing tributes and the damn altar they had constructed, the flames of the candle swaying, mocking her inability to maintain her own.

Krissy forced herself to calm down. The physical base served as a transit between the belief and the tulpa, or egregore in this case. She really hoped that the singers were not the base drawing others in to focus on their antics. As unsympathetic as she was there was no way she could burn people alive, or even hurt them, lest they attacked her, and they seemed content to sing and dance. Around the altar. Krssy flashed back to what the Egregore, or rather Patricia, at the time had said; about how they kept rebuilding the shrine, despite her protests. _Before she gave up… _Krissy headed over to the shrine cupping the fire carefully. Almost there, she felt a tight grip about her arm.

One of the singers had her, as a few had stopped and stared, although there eyes were unfocused, unseeing. They began pulling her away, though she struggled, managing to kick a candle into the shrine, starting a small fire. Those who had her let her go, surprised, though still entranced.

Above, the egregore paused, wincing as a scar appeared on her left arm, the same side as the shrine.

Krissy ran towards the shrine, blocking the wind from the tiny flame as she set the shrine alight, creating small fire islands that began to merge carried by the wind that had once tried to snuff them out.

Above, the egregore shrieked as it went up in flames. She burned, although it was as though the flame were a cage, rather then heat slicing through. Jesse decided to try one last time to reason with her.

"The power is being destroyed let it go and you'll live!" From the fire the egregore glanced at her son, who had only stopped crying because of shock, stared back and Jesse.

"_Nothing…I….can …do….forgive me…." _ Jesse, realizing this was the end no child should see for their parent, teleported behind her, scoped up the child and back again to the door, throwing one last look toward the egregore, the fire growing more intense. Jesse slammed the door, hearing the air suck into the engulfing flames on the other side, and then the sound of rain beating onto the roof and streets below.

"Okay it's time to go. People, _cops, _are starting to show, and I don't want to have to explain this."

"What about him?"

"He still owes us info. He'll come with us. Help me load him into the back seat." Kate complied doing the larger share of the lifting. In the skies above them the skies opened up and rain pelted the ground below, Kate and Jacob quickly absconding into the car. Granted the window was smashed so it didn't do much, but a plastic bag over it remedied the situation for now.

With Kate driving to avoid suspicion, they made as though they were clearing the way for the police, pulling away into low traffic areas, back to the highway when they got the window fixed. They were on the road for fifteen minutes when Lee spoke up.

"I think I'm in trouble." Jacob stared out the partially covered window disinterestedly.

"What, did you leave some credit cards or a fake ID back at the lot? I'm sure that won't be a problem, they're all fake, and we used them to get paint anyway."

"No, I mean I'm bleeding pretty bad over here." Kate turned, and let out a shriek, Jacob turning to see a small puddle of blood next to the hunter.

"Jesus!" Kate pulled over, and jumped out, with Jacob following. "We've got to get him to a hospital, Jacob." The boy Kitsune stared at the blood.

"There's no time."

"Are you serious! Look I get you don't like hunters, but he's different, and…and even he weren't we wouldn't leave him to die. You wouldn't."

"You don't know what I would do actually, but in this instance, you're right, I wouldn't. But, Kate. There's no time, I think he's severed an artery and he's fading fast. Usually people are more animated when they're gushing blood."

"So, that's it?!"

"Of course not. We're going to finish his business as a courtesy. It's what I would do for another Kitsune…or for you," he added quietly. Kate looked at the ground. Jacob climbed into the back seat, trying to avoid the blood, but failed, it turned out Lee was sitting on quite a bit more of it. Gently patting the man's face to wake him, he spoke into his ear, "hey listen, this looks pretty bad….who do you want us to call, in case of anything?" Lee swallowed and struggled to open his eyes.

"Don't kid me…I'm done….fucking angel. I need you to call….my daughter, tell her it…..safe, and I need you to fix it so I can't come back."

"What's he mean, can't come back?" Jacob sighed.

"Salt and burn, Kate. So he won't come back as a spirit." Kate shook a little, and Jacob saw a droplet of water hit the dirt. Sometimes he hated his strong vision. Lee's hoarse voice distracted him from his sadness, for a moment. Reaching into his coat, he handed Jacob a book, worn and frayed; a journal. The hunter said,

"Here's info….you can find Winchesters….but try to forgive or forget….why you're angry. There are better things to do with your time." Jacob glared at the dying man.

"How would you know?"

"Lost my wife to one of yous….lost my life to the hunt….lost my daughter, too. I kept my deal…but don't say I didn't warn you….." Lee shut his eyes, and became still. _Were it not for the blood, it would almost be peaceful, _Jacob thought.

Krissy and Jesse spent the next two days setting their stories straight. The church attendees who had gotten pulled into the Egregore's influence were told that they were victims of a gas leak that caused them to hallucinate, but maybe they should stop the practice of building shrines everywhere, and stick to prayer instead.

They spread the rumor that the boy had merely cut himself, due to anemia, needed treatment but wanted to play, and so collapsed. That was the easy part. The hard part was what to tell Mitch. Coming down the stairs, just after his mom had been incinerated. Jesse placed the boy down, and tried to put his best stern face on. The boy stared back with tear streaked cheeks.

"Listen. I know what you've seen here is very scary and you don't understand it."

"My mommy left." Jesse swallowed a lump in his throat.

"Then again may be you do. The thing is, you can't tell anyone. You have to try and understand that maybe her leaving was a good thing, because otherwise, you gonna be really sad. Just say you woke up and she was gone. Because, it will be a lot easier. The boy nodded, and Jesse doubted that he would follow through, but convinced himself that no one would believe the boy anyway, despite feeling guilty for this thought. He set the boy in his room and called child services to report an unattended minor. He didn't see the boy stare at a spot in his room, or see the air in the spot shimmer. He found Krissy behind the door afterwards.

"You don't actually believe that stuff, do you?"

"It'll help." Krissy said nothing else afterward.

Jesse managed to find the book that Sandy/Patricia/egregore had come from, a quick search of the author revealed that he had some experience with the occult, and likely summoned then abandoned his character. Upon arriving to tell his friend what he found, he found her staring at her phone.

"Is something wrong?"

"You said he'd be safe."

"Who?" She pressed a button on her phone, and a young women's voice filled the mostly empty room.

"Um, my name is Kate…and I don't know how to tell you this… but your father has…passed. We handled his effects according to his wishes, and he said to tell you it's safe…the angels are gone. Again I'm sorry for you're loss."

"Who is she?"

"Never mind. You said he'd be safe. You lied." Really, he should have seen it coming when she walked over to him, but maybe he felt like he deserved it. The punch hurt, but the awkward silence as she held a knife on him while inching her way to the door hurt more, as he told her she could leave if she wanted. She was out the door and Jesse dared not followed her, even though he could have, unnoticed.

"I sent the message."

"Now we ditch the phone."

Jacob and Kate had dug a pit, and set the funeral pyre as best as Jacob could imagine it, which was essentially a pile of sticks with Lee's body wrapped in a sheet, set on fire with a lighter from a convenience store. It seemed appropriate for a man with such few pretensions, as Kate pointed out, and Jacob would have to admit he was less ideological than some of the stories of hunters he had heard while in the den.

It occurred to him, then, that he had been rather sheltered, and Jacob felt guilty, and wondered if his distaste for hunters in general was a responsibility or made him a pretender, trying to exact some selfish closure from something that was essentially his fault.

"Do we have to toss the phone?" Startled out of his thoughts, Jacob was a bit irritated.

"Of _course_. We don't want this hunter daughter of his tracking us down, now do we?" Illuminated by the fire of the funeral pyre, Kate seemed almost satirical

"_Hunter_ _daughter_? You make it sound like some sort of clan.

"Kate we just _cremated_ someone. It _is_ 'some sort of clan'."

"You're putting them all into some sort of box, they're not all the same. You said yourself; they're all nomads. Separate."

"The hunter just wanted us to call."

"_Lee_ just wanted us to call. That doesn't mean we can't do more."

"There are _angels_ in the world. We helped to kill _angels_. There is nothing more we could do, okay? We're not going half way or anything. We're in full time. Just because we don't go and find his kid doesn't make us apathetic. It makes us smart. We don't know what she'd do or who she's with."

"We don't know much of anything, it seems." Jacob shrugged. Glancing at the device once more, she dropped it out the window into the dirt.

"Thank you." Jacob shifted in his seat, and winced when a dull ache ran across abdomen. Kate noticed.

"Uncomfortable?" Another shrug.

"It's not too bad. Just going to be hell to sleep tonight."

"Lay you head on my shoulder." Jacob arched an eyebrow.

"What?"

"Oh, come on. My shoulder was fine a few days ago."

"As I recall, you screamed at me for drooling on that shoulder."

"Only 'cause you wouldn't wake up." Jacob's face darkened.

"If I'd slept through, we wouldn't be here, would we?" Hurt crept across her face.

"You're blaming my lead for all of this?" Kate pointed out the window at their makeshift crematorium.

"No. I'm blaming _me_. I got you into this. You've gotten what you wanted. There's no reason to put yourself through losing more….whatever bond you developed with him."

"Friendship?"

"Fine. Friendship. You'll only lose more, if you even make more."

"We didn't lose Detective Clarkson. Lee got the safety he wanted for his daughter. I get it. We lose some, but we win, too."

"It will bottom out, eventually."

"Quit the dick act, Jacob. I'm sticking with you and that's that. Now you can either put your head on my shoulder and we can both get some rest or play your little stoic act and be sore all night. Your choice."

Jacob situated himself against his companion, resting his head against the upper part of her arm. For a few moments neither spoke. It was Kate who broke the silence.

"So, what's next, then?" Already groggy, and half asleep, Jacob answered without thinking much about it.

"Suppose our next case….

Ishpeming, Michigan

Abby Simmons paused outside a nondescript apartment door, like the fifty or so in the building, in mid-knock. She supposed the congruency of the doors would be some sort of metaphor. If this was a movie, it would be an intermediate level allegorical scene, gushed over by pseudo intellectuals, and panned by movie literati. Thing was, did it mean this was the right decision?

Carrying on an online relationship seemed like harmless fun, but Abby would feel like a coward, after starting to fall for this person to not see if it was all some big joke. Of course, she hadn't been stupid about it. Not wanting to be persuaded from seeking her 'special friend' as her cousin Samantha would phrase it, she left a typed letter (so her handwriting would not be illegible, nor could it get smudged easily; it took her an hour to decide against lamination) explaining where she was, what she was doing and who she would be with (hopefully), and had a keychain sized canister of pepper spray in her pocket. Should a lecher open the door and try to grab her, she would spray the SOB with the entirety and run like hell, if she could.

"There's no going back now, is there?" Abby knocked thrice, shifting and adjusting her glasses, switching from hand to hand the flowers she had brought to assuage the sweatiness of her palms. She heard a shuffling inside, and tensed, sensing someone nearing the door, gripping both the flowers and the canister until her fingers hurt.

The door swung open, and a flustered young woman answered, raven black hair and cerulean blue eyes, that could be gray in the right light. Abby froze.

"H-hey." _Genius, Abby, you could be Cyrano._

"Abby. Hi. I…" The girl attempted to fix herself, prompting Abby to say something.

"You look great, Grace. Um, these are for you." Abby handed her the flowers. Grace smiled widely and sniffed them.

"They're beautiful, Abigail." The girl in question took a sharp breath, attempting to ignore, for now, the heat pooling in her lower belly. "Come inside, won't you?" Abby nodded eagerly, frowning at herself when Grace turned away for being so enthusiastic. _Play it cool_.

The apartment was rather empty, but a few furnishes made it homey to Abby, who swallowed panic that she was being a u-haul lesbian.

"So…you decided to stop by on an impulse, or is this a more auspicious occasion?"

"Well, I guess the first, sorry." Grace returned from placing the flowers in water, and fetched two wine glasses from a shelf.

"Nonsense, we'll just make it special. And everything is better with liquor. Stay put, and let me grab a bottle, will you?"

"Sure."

Taking in her surroundings, Abby allowed herself to wander, noting that the apartment was roomier than she would imagine the assistant to the production assistant of a small indie label could afford, but balanced this with the fact that the apartment was practically bare, so most of her money went to paying rent, Abby rationalized.

"How about some music?" Grace called from another room.

"Sounds good." She mentally berated herself for not having better responses for her dream girl. A melody flirted about the room; Abby recognized it as the opening from Wax Fang's _Majestic._

_Grace certainly is, _she thought, and grinned at her own corniness.

_A sight for sore eyes for the blind would be awful majestic_

Abby felt something crunch under her foot. Startled, she looked down to find gravel? No, cat litter. _Grace didn't mention having a cat._

_The most beautiful thing that they ever had seen._

A small pile of the scented granules were outside what appeared to be a bathroom, Abby decided to risk a look inside. Her breath caught in her throat.

_It would cause such surprise, it would make all of their minds electric._

Even with the litter, the stench of the corpse rotting in the tub could not be contained any more than the boundary of the bathroom.

"I really wish you hadn't seen that." Abby whirled to find Grace there, looking….worried. Abby tried to pull her pepper spray canister out, but froze, again, this time for all the wrong reasons, as Grace stepped forward. "I'm so sorry Abigail

_How could anyone tell them that some things are not what they seem?_

A/N: This was long. Me tired. Next chapter called "Where no one knows you're a dog." A Kate/Jacob chap. Till then~ LoungeLizard. 


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